


Ginny Weasley & The Legacy of Blood

by justmattycakes



Series: Ginny Weasley - The Girl Who Lived [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Ginny Weasley, F/M, Ginny is the Chosen One, Slow Burn, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 79,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21727588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justmattycakes/pseuds/justmattycakes
Summary: Fresh off her victory in The Chamber of Secrets, Ginny Weasley returns home to recover and enjoy the summer. But fate has other plans for her, as rumors swirl and her greatest enemy discovers her Legacy of Blood. Can Ginny master her fear and unravel their plans before it's too late?Welcome Back for ChosenGinny's Years 2 and 3 at Hogwarts -- Beware of Darkness and Despair!Part One: Ginny Weasley and The Prisoner of Azkaban!Follow Along WithGinny’s Mixtape!
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Series: Ginny Weasley - The Girl Who Lived [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484036
Comments: 83
Kudos: 75





	1. Further Than The Planes Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back! If you need a quick refresher, or are new to the series, head back to Ginny Weasley and the Chamber of Secrets, I've posted a quick synopsis as 'Chapter 13!'

##  **Further Than The Planes Fly**

_Shoot, shoot, shoot_

_You have what I need_

_Put me in a rocket, send me into the sky_

_Further than the planes fly (planes fly)_

_Shoot, shoot, shoot_

_You are all I need_

_(All I need)_

_The way my fingers creep forward_

_To touch you for the first time_

_Well, I don't care who knows_

_I'll reassess my friendships_

_I'll let the fake ones go_

_So it's just us when we're, we're, we're, we're alone_

  * _Eves Karydas, 2018_



* * *

Ginny woke with a start, her heart drumming inside her chest. It was the same dream as before. The same dream she'd had nearly every night since school ended. She shivered, taking comfort in the way the light from the moon filtered through her shades and dispersed the shadows that grew in her mind. 

The way she'd felt, as Voldemort twisted Quirrell's broken body to his will, made her almost sick with pain. She would recover after a few minutes, once she could stop the clenching and shaking that ran their course each time. Ginny shivered, feeling the sweat as it plastered her hair to her forehead and tried to take deep breaths. She was alone in her room, in the Potters' house. She was Ginny Weasley, and this was her body. She flexed her fingers experimentally and the tension finally began to relax.

Ginny yawned, managing to stand up and make her way to the door, her steps clumsy with sleep. Cleo hopped off her bed and followed, trotting lithely as if she hadn't been asleep just moments before.

Ginny padded quietly across the house, making her way to the little hallway that led out to the porch and Hedwig's enclosure. The beautiful snowy owl fluttered her wings at Ginny, settling back on her perch with a fuss once Hedwig realized she hadn't brought any treats. Ginny checked the letter box, but the slots were all empty. _'Of course they're empty, it's three in the morning,'_ she thought with frustration, shivering in the predawn chill.

It had been almost two weeks since she'd first had the nightmare, and she woke each time expecting some news that Voldemort had escaped from Azkaban, but there'd been nothing. Surely if he'd broken out, someone would've realized by now, wouldn't they?

Ginny had written to Ada right away the first time, but she responded that she hadn't heard anything either and Ginny could relax, the dreams probably meant nothing. Maybe they _were_ just nightmares, and Ginny was overreacting. She hoped that was true. Maybe that was why she hadn't said anything to the Potters yet. As long as it stayed in the realm of her nightmares, she could pretend it wasn't real.

And yet, the scar throbbed like a dull ache, a reminder that the one who'd given it was still alive and out there. Waiting.

Ginny walked into the kitchen, opening the door to the ice box that served as a refrigerator in the Potters' home. As far as Ginny could tell, the box had some type of spell on it to keep it cold. Lily had even bewitched it to hum pleasantly, a little reminder of a muggle refrigerator that helped Ginny feel at home. Maybe Lily found it comforting too.

"Can't sleep either?" Harry asked from the hallway, shuffling his feet as he fussed with his glasses.

Ginny shook her head, quickly slipping the milk back onto the shelf and hoping Harry didn't notice that she hadn't bothered with a glass. "No, it's the nightmare again."

Harry gave her a weak smile. "The same for me. Well, my own nightmare, I mean. I only got about halfway through it, if I fall back asleep now I'll just start up where I left off."

They stood together in silence, unsure of how to talk about all that had transpired between them. They had tried before without much success, but sometimes just knowing she wasn't alone was enough. It had to be.

"Do you…" started Ginny, suddenly unsure. Harry looked at her, his face open and vulnerable, and she was able to find her footing. "Do you want to stay up, then? With me?"

Harry nodded, picking up the glass of juice he'd poured, and followed Ginny out of the kitchen.

In Ginny's room, they stared at the ceiling, talking quietly with the lamp turned low. There was always something measured in their conversations, like Harry was afraid to show how much the experience affected him. But he didn't need to hide it, she hadn't come through unscathed, either.

"Tom did it to me, too, you know," Ginny whispered, looking up to catch Harry's eye.

"What?" asked Harry, the color draining from his face. He knew what she'd meant.

"The painted words in the hallway, before holiday. He… He did it through me. Or made me do it, I don't really know." She'd admitted it before, to Dumbledore and the Potters, of course. But Harry had been in the hospital wing then, and she hadn't brought it up since. 

He blinked at her, sitting upright. "I didn't know. He possessed you, too?"

Ginny nodded, not particularly wanting to relive the experience, but still feeling the need to talk about it all the same. "I didn't even know it had happened until later. But whenever I think about it, I can feel him there. Like some kind of slimy eel worming around in my head."

Harry nodded, letting the silence lengthen until Ginny wondered if she'd overstepped. Maybe he wasn't ready to remember.

"It's like," Harry started, pausing as he worked out all the words out in his mind. "It's like I was in my room and had drifted off to sleep. And then when I woke up, the room had been changed around by someone else. All the things were still mine, but his handprints were all over everything. Like he'd covered it in tar."

Ginny thought of videos she'd seen in her muggle classes about an oil spill; the thick, black substance coating the birds and seals in this sticky goop they couldn't wash away. Was she like that now, stained by her association with Tom? Was Harry?

"When I tried to be me again, it was hard because he was still in the way," Harry continued, his voice soft and distant, like he wasn't sure he could admit the truth. "And it got even harder every time it happened. I couldn't remember what I was doing or where I was going. After a while, I stopped trying to fight it. I couldn't even tell what I was fighting anymore, couldn't tell which parts were still me."

Harry turned to face her, his face pale in the soft light. "Do you hear him still, sometimes? Laughing at you, whispering the secrets he stole? The lies?" Harry closed his eyes, his breathing coming fast and ragged now. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be asking, it's not my place to…" 

"I still hear him, but he's quieter now. Even when he's angry." Ginny remembered how quickly he'd become her everything; her friend, her confidante, her guiding force. It had happened so easily that she hadn't noticed at first. Not until it was much too late. 

Harry exhaled heavily, something like relief in the sound. "I hope he quiets for me, too. Sometimes it's hard to hear myself think."

The silence between them stretched on after that, but Ginny felt like something had passed between them that cut straight through the tension. She let her eyes drift closed, listening as Harry's breathing leveled out beside her. She thought of the way Lily's eyes trailed him when he wasn't looking, the expression of concern etched deep into the lines of her face. Ginny owed it to Lily, owed it to Harry too, to do whatever she could to make things right.

"Ginny?" asked Harry, his voice light to see if she was sleeping. 

"Hmmm?"

"Would it be alright if I stayed here, for a little while?"

"Of course," answered Ginny, her heart beating a little faster. It was funny, remembering how she'd felt when she was first talking to Harry. How scared of making a fool of herself she had been, watching him from behind her textbooks as he joked with Ron and Hermione. So much had changed, and yet she still felt her chest flutter at the thought of him lying next to her, asleep.

As Harry drifted off, his expression set in grim determination, she felt the need to protect him swell in her. She scooted closer to him so that they were nearly touching, only the bunching of the blankets keeping them apart. She carefully laid her arm over him, hoping he wouldn't wake, and closed her eyes for a moment. It wasn't long before Ginny drifted off to sleep, her hand wound around his.

That night, the nightmare didn't come again.

* * *

Ginny leaned low and shot to the left, speeding ahead just in time to save the quaffle from making it through the ring. She threw it down the pitch, right into Ron's waiting arms as he managed to slide a goal past Fred. Ginny cheered and went into a quick corkscrew turn to show off, smiling as James shook his head in resignation. He hated losing.

"The pride of Gryffindor scores again!" shouted Ron, whooping as Fred threw the quaffle at his head.

"Hey now, keep it civil," scolded James. "And get that defense up, I've got a win streak riding on this game." He zoomed by them on a Nimbus broom of his own, which he'd managed to hold off buying until just this past week. He'd justified it to all of them -- none of whom had asked -- by saying he'd bought it for a new 'fitness routine' he'd heard about in the office. James had not mentioned the routine since.

The six of them kept their scrimmage going on for another hour, all exhausted by the time they headed in for supper. Ginny relished in the physical exertion; the excitement of flying going a long way to offset the boredom of not being able to use magic all summer.

"There's a letter for you, Ginny," Lily called out from Hedwig's enclosure.

Ginny made her way out to the porch, fear coiling deep in her belly. Had someone seen something? Did her friends learn something she'd overlooked? As frightened as she was, she needed to know. She was done with ignoring warning signs.

"Is everything alright, dear? You're not hurt, are you?" asked Lily, concern quickly jumping to her eyes as she searched Ginny for an injury. In her hands was a letter, Ginny's name marked in large letters on the post in Colin's messy scrawl.

"Oh, I'm alright," Ginny lied, doing her best to school her face. "Just tired." Maybe it was nothing, another false hope of finally figuring out what was going on. 

Lily tapped the edge of the envelope lightly with her wand, and it opened more cleanly than any letter opener Ginny had ever seen. Inside was a note from Colin and a few photographs of her, as well as a clipping of a _Daily Prophet_ article about the students who'd been petrified. The profile on Colin showed a picture of Ginny and him together that Ada had taken after Gryffindor's victory against Hufflepuff.

Ginny smiled at the picture, reminded that her second year at Hogwarts was right around the corner. With a rather rocky first year behind her, she was ready to put those troubles in the past. Maybe she was being paranoid about Voldemort escaping. It _had_ been a dream, after all.

Ginny flipped through the rest of the photographs, most of them of her or her and Ada. Colin had even included the first one he'd taken on the boat ride across the lake, before the sorting. She couldn't believe how much had changed since then. Ginny turned to the note, excited to hear from Colin after his family holiday.

_Hey Ginny!_

_I hope your summer is going well! I know mine has - mom and dad took Dennis and me to a lake house that our uncle owns. It started out boring; dad only wanted to watch the tele since his club was on, and of course we aren't allowed any magic. Then two days later, an owl swooped into the living room and dropped a Hogwarts letter for Dennis right into the gravy boat at dinner! He was so excited that he fainted, and dad said we should head to the pub to celebrate with some fish and chips. Dennis brought his letter along and two wizards saw it and came to congratulate him! They were just there in the pub looking for a drink, can you believe it? And then…_

Ginny refolded the letter -- all _six_ pages of it -- to finish reading later. Flipping back to the photos, she picked up one that Colin had taken of the three of them using his timer. Ginny looked at Ada and Colin's smiling faces and felt a surge of warmth in her chest. She missed her friends, but there was something pleasant about the ache, and she cherished the feeling that she had people to miss.

"Those are lovely photographs," commented Lily, leaning to look over Ginny's shoulder. "Did he send you any of the original film?"

Ginny upended the envelope, finding a strip of negatives in a small plastic sleeve and handing them to Lily. 

"Perfect. I can whip up a developing potion in about twenty minutes in my lab, then we can use that to develop the photos so that they'll move. I can make extra of the potion, if you think Colin would be interested?"

Ginny nodded eagerly. "Can you make one of Ada and Colin and me? After the quidditch match?"

"Of course, dear," answered Lily, kissing Ginny's head as she wrapped an arm around her.

Ginny froze, surprised by the tenderness of the gesture. It wasn't that it was _bad_ , just that she hadn't expected it. But Lily must have felt her go rigid, because she quickly drew back. "I'm sorry, was that too… did I do something wrong?"

Ginny could feel Tom laughing at her, whispering that she wasn't worthy of love, that she was a fraud. She hated that he could still touch her, through time and distance, and poison every motive. For the first few years after leaving the Sheltons, Ginny had been starved for affection, slowly hardening to the reality of her situation. Now, she found that she was afraid of its easy familiarity, scared that if she _really_ had it, it was only a matter of time before it was taken from her.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm flying blind in all of this, I wasn't even thinking about what I was doing. I guess I'm just so used to it with the boys, I'm sorry," Lily confided. "I don't know all of what you've been through, but I'm sure it was a great deal. I don't mean to pry or make you uncomfortable, it's just…"

"I'm alright, I was just surprised. I… that's okay, for you to do." 

"Alright," Lily answered quietly, though she didn't try again.

Looking at the photographs in her hand, Ginny had a thought. The portrait of the Fat Lady at Hogwarts could talk, she could even ask for the password to the common room. "Is there something that can make photographs talk? Like magic paintings?"

"Not yet, but I wouldn't be surprised if someone invented a magical camera capable of that one day. Maybe it will be you or one of your brothers. Your father Arthur loved to tinker, especially with muggle technology. Might be in the Weasley genes," Lily said, sliding the strip of negatives into her pocket as she smiled down at Ginny.

Ginny remembered what Dumbledore had said to her about her tape player, and that the Muggle Studies professor had known her father. She should speak to her at Hogwarts this year; she might even have stories of Ginny's parents when they were younger. And maybe Ginny could work on her new tape player, like her father might have done.

"For paintings, and usually portraits," Lily continued, "the painter has to enchant the paints and painting as they work. All that time and magic captures a much better copy of the person, whereas a photograph is done in a snap," she said, mimicking a camera shot.

"Did my parents have any portraits?"

Lily frowned, a pained expression briefly stealing across her face. "I'm not sure, but I'm afraid your old home -- the Burrow -- didn't survive the blast. By the time Hagrid got there, nearly half of it had burned down. I'm sorry, Ginny."

Ginny nodded solemnly. She'd expected as much; if one had survived, surely she would've been told about it by now. It still managed to feel like a fresh loss, the excitement immediately squashed. "That's okay, I expected something like that. The twins had said it was destroyed when I asked them about the house in the photo album. Is there a portrait of you, with James?"

"No, not yet. But now that you're with us, I think one of the whole family would be nice, don't you? We can sit for one before summer is through. I'll send Horace an owl and see if he knows anyone he'd recommend. How does that sound?"

Ginny nodded, feeling like she was really a part of the family, yet afraid that all of it would be taken from her. "Thank you, Lily, I'd like that."

* * *

Ginny shifted the woven basket between her hands, trying to find a more comfortable position as the potion bottles clinked lightly together. It was a bright and sunny summer day, but the clouds on the horizon spoke of rain in the evening, their towering crowns reaching far into the atmosphere. Ginny sneezed, trying to settle the basket on her hip as she wiped her nose with her sleeve. Was there a spell to get rid of allergies?

"Is that too heavy? I don't mind carrying them both," offered Lily, reaching out for the basket.

"No, it's alright, I want to help," Ginny insisted. She was going on Lily's potions route with her today, stopping by many of the homes in Godric's Hollow to help drop off the medicines and tinctures that Lily had brewed. "Do you go on this walk all the time?"

"Once or twice a month. Most of the potions last longer than that, but some are best when fresh. Here, grab those two purple ones, will you? We'll visit Ms. Bagshot next, and she'll offer us tea."

"Ms. Bagshot?" The name stirred a memory for her, where had she seen it? Maybe someone she had met in the Leaky Cauldron that day, almost a year ago now?

"Yes, she's a writer and historian; she even wrote some of your textbooks, like _'A History of Magic',_ and _'Hogwarts: A History'._ She's lived here for quite some time, even while the Dumbledore family was in Godric's Hollow."

"Professor Dumbledore lived here?" Ginny asked, surprised. "I can't picture him ever being a kid. He looked ancient even when he was Tom's professor… " She stopped herself, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. She shouldn't talk about it, especially after what Harry had gone through.

She chanced a glance at Lily, who was watching her with concern. "It's alright, Ginny, you can tell me about it. You saw a memory of Dumbledore when... Tom was at school?"

Ginny nodded, her stomach churning with anxiety. "It's fine, I don't need to talk about it." If Voldemort had really escaped Azkaban, he'd be coming for her. What chance did she stand if she couldn't even tell a story about him without fear twisting her insides?

"Alright," nodded Lily, her eyes watching Ginny's closely. "I'll let you off for now, but that offer always stands, okay? Let's see if Ms. Bagshot has any juicy gossip about Albus Dumbledore when he was your age."

Tea with Ms. Bagshot would have to wait, however, as she was rushing out the floo on her way to visit a friend who'd just been taken to St. Mungos. She promised tea and biscuits the following week, and a healthy dose of embarrassing Dumbledore stories if Ginny was still interested.

As Ginny followed Lily through her neighborhood route, one thing kept gnawing at her. "How does your job work? I never see anyone paying for anything, do they mail it to you after?"

Lily smiled, wiping her brow briefly. "This is more of my charity work, actually. James and I moved to Godric's Hollow to raise a family, and the community has always been so good to us. It feels like the right thing to do, since I've got the skill, don't you think?"

Ginny wondered what that meant for her. Was it her job to be this _Chosen One_ that everyone talked about? Was she actually any good at it? She wasn't even twelve yet, and she'd barely survived her first year at Hogwarts -- nearly unleashing an ancient beast of legend upon the school in the process. It certainly didn't feel like it was doing well.

Maybe it just meant that she was supposed to be the best at whatever she became, but that seemed a little too obvious. It really didn't matter, it's not like she had a choice in being the 'Girl Who Lived', she may as well own it.

On their walk back to Lily’s lab behind the Potters' home, Lily told Ginny that she was a researcher for the Potions Association -- a branch of the Ministry -- and worked on developing counter-curse potions for serious and deadly curses. Lily explained that there were sometimes different ways to beat a curse, and often combining different magical disciplines led to better results. It reminded Ginny of what Professor Slughorn said about Potions almost a year ago.

Lily took out her wand, flicking it lightly toward the door handle, the motion followed by a satisfying _click_. "I originally started working on a cure for lycanthropy -- that's the blood curse that werewolves have -- but it's not a well-funded affliction. After a few years, our department got cut, and that's when I went back to researching counter-curse potions. Like I had during the war."

Once inside, Lily flipped the switch on an old turntable setup against the wall. The subdued sounds of 'Light My Fire' by The Doors came on, the synths ringing out their classic seventies sound. "I guess there's just something in me that wants to fix whatever is broken. But when it comes to curses, sometimes the only thing you can do is destroy the corruption and hope that there is enough good left to repair itself."

Lily dug around her equipment for a few minutes before she handed Ginny a clear glass bottle labeled _‘Developing Solution’_ to give to Colin. Ginny tucked it carefully away, excited to show him when she got back to Hogwarts. Lily had also developed Ginny’s photograph so that it moved, the trio laughing and cheering as they hoisted their Gryffindor colors in celebration. 

"I didn’t always want to do counter-curse work,” Lily admitted, leaning against her workstation. “When James and I graduated, war had already broken out. We joined the Order of the Phoenix the moment we left Hogwarts, and pretty soon we were in the thick of it. I worked with the healers, using what they knew of treating curses to modify the potions I knew. It was grueling work, and we were always fighting against the clock, but it awakened something in me. The more I understood about the spell work, the more effective my potions became. Of course, I wasn't always fast enough."

A shadow seemed to pass over Lily's eyes, and she paused, lost in thought. No one really talked about the war, at least as far as Ginny could tell. She thought of the homeless veterans she'd seen in her foster neighborhoods, alternating between drowning their sadness and unleashing their anger. Maybe all wars were like that, a shadow on the soul. She remembered the horrible descriptions she'd read when she was researching Voldemort in the library last year. The terrible crimes the Death Eaters had committed, the torture and murder. If Lily had been right in the middle of it; she'd probably seen some of the worst curses there were.

"After all the dust settled," Lily continued, "I had a long conversation with Horace Slughorn, and we made a deal. I'd wanted to quit, but he said he'd sponsor me for the job if I gave it a go. I thought about the good that I could do, and he convinced me that as a researcher, I wouldn't be dealing with the types of situations I had to during the war. _Or_ be forced to make the types of decisions we had to make."

"Professor Slughorn gave me good advice, too," Ginny added, looking at all the strange ingredients stored around the lab. It looked like Slughorn's office, in some ways. The photos were of family and friends, though, and gifts from Harry and Ron were interspersed with a few awards and Lily's old Head Girl badge. "He said that you were his favorite student, and in Slug Club, too."

Ginny thought about how welcoming Slughorn had been last year when she'd talked to him about Harry. Maybe she should tell him about the diary? Tom had known him during school, Slughorn might even know how the diary worked. She didn't know if that mattered, but if Voldemort really _had_ escaped, she wanted to be prepared. If anything was certain, it was that he'd be coming for her.

"Wait," said Ginny, remembering something as Jim Morrison's voice came back in with the chorus. "This is a muggle song. Harry said all you ever listened to was Celestina Warbeck!"

Lily gave her a wink, shimmying her hips a little to the beat. "That's just my cooking music, but it wasn't that long ago that I was young and into whatever was popular at the time. I turned Sirius on to The Doors, you know? But Pink Floyd was always his favorite."

* * *

Ginny spread her hands around her mug, relishing the warmth that the tea brought to her fingers. Somehow, Grimmauld Place always managed to feel cold and gloomy, even in the middle of summer. Sirius was deep into another of his muggle novels, working his way through the muggle library's recommended reading list, his own tea forgotten on the counter.

"Why does everyone say, 'Oh Merlin', and stuff like that?" Ginny asked, knowing she wouldn't get an honest answer from the twins. It's not that they weren't helpful, _sometimes_ , but they wouldn't miss an opportunity to have a go at her. "Was he actually a real wizard, with King Arthur and the knights of the round table at Camelot? I always thought those were muggle legends."

Sirius looked up from the book he was reading, this one titled _Dune_ , and raised his eyebrows. "He was a real wizard, believe it or not. He even attended Hogwarts many, many years ago."

"Oh," answered Ginny, wondering if she'd asked a stupid question. Sirius seemed to catch her hesitance and motioned for her to join him on the couch.

"It's understandable that you didn't know that. With the Statute of Secrecy in place, the Ministry has done everything in its power to erase the existence of magic from muggle history over the last two hundred years. But Merlin was too widely known to be memory charmed away, so the Ministry spread rumors and destroyed muggle historical records. Eventually, they managed to convince the muggles it was a fairytale."

Sirius went on to explain that Merlin had, in fact, been an advisor to King Arthur in his battles against the evil witch Morgana and her realm of Avalon. He later founded the Order of Merlin, an organization dedicated to the cooperation between wizardkind and muggles.

"Wait -- I thought the Order of Merlin was an award? Doesn't Dumbledore have one?"

"It is now, but that's a more recent incarnation. The old one dissolved some time after Merlin died and his ideas fell out of favor. But Merlin was still a hero to most people and well known as an incredibly powerful wizard. He was a master of wandless _and_ wordless magic, and invented more than a quarter of the _Standard Book of Spells_. When the Wizengamot announced an award for contributions to the magical community, in his honor, it resonated with people."

Ginny didn’t care about the award; it couldn’t be very hard to get if Lockhart had managed it. Bur Merlin and Morgana were much more interesting. So Morgana really _was_ an evil witch that King Arthur fought wars against. It seemed strange that she would hate muggles if her father and half-brother were muggles, too. Didn’t that make her a half-blood? “What did Morgana do that was so evil? Why'd they fight?"

"She wanted to stop Merlin at all costs, destroy any chance of an alliance with muggles, so she summoned monsters and began attacking the nearby villages and towns. Arthur and Merlin trained the Knights of the Round Table to fight her monsters, and to hunt the witch who started it all. Eventually she was defeated, but the wars were brutal, and they say Avalon was destroyed."

There was something that Sirius said that tickled her memory. Something about Merlin and Morgana that was just beyond the tip of her tongue; a word that the centaur Firenze had said to her, something that seemed so familiar. "Is there anything about a gate, or a bridge? With Morgana? It sounds like Avalon, I think?"

"There are other names for it," Sirius suggested. "Mostly different spellings or pronunciations from old English or Gaelic. Afallach is one, Avilion, Annwyn or Annfwyn, there may be more…" 

"Yes, that one, Annwyn!" 

"Where did you hear that?" Sirius asked, surprised. "It's Welsh, isn't it? Do they teach Welsh in muggle schools in London?"

Ginny shrugged. She remembered the promise she had made Firenze. She wouldn't tell Sirius anything about the clearing on the hilltop near the Forbidden Forest, or the centaurs that called it home. But it wouldn't hurt for Sirius to know it was a centaur, would it? It wasn't like she could go back and ask Firenze about it. And Sirius had kept her secret about Cleo, after all. 

"A centaur said it about me. That I was a child of Annwyn, or maybe my mother was? Or something about her blood? It's all very hazy..."

"You met a centaur? At school? Dumbledore _has_ really gotten progressive with his curriculum, I'm impressed." Sirius looked thoughtful, slowly scratching at his scruffy beard. "I wouldn't worry about it. Centaurs like their riddles, he probably just meant you were a daughter of witches or something. Trust me, they're really into astrology and mysticism, very delicate arts and prone to misinterpretation, if you know what I mean." Sirius winked at her, as if they'd shared some sort of secret, but continued on. "Anyway, what I was saying about wandless magic…"

As she thought about it, the fragments of her conversation with Firenze began to resurface. She swore that he had said something about another world. And he'd called Ginny a daughter of Annwyn, or of Avalon, she supposed. Sirius dismissed the whole idea, but Firenze said that he'd waited for Ginny's arrival for _years_. That he thought she would lead them home. But where was home? Was Avalon still a real place, an island of dark sorcery? Why would centaurs call that home? The whole thing made her feel unsettled, and a crawling sensation stole its way across her skin, sending gooseflesh in its wake.

"...So, a spell is really more like a mathematical formula, and the wand is like your muggle calculator, instead of a quill, if you'll pardon the comparison," continued Sirius, unaware that Ginny had stopped listening.

"Huh," answered Ginny, trying to figure out what he'd been saying. She took a sip of her tea to stall, hoping Sirius would continue if given the opportunity. In the corner of the room, Kreacher painstakingly dusted a coat of arms bearing the Black family crest, a constant stream of muttering bubbling from him just at the edge of hearing.

Sirius sipped at his tea, making a face as he realized it had gone cold. "The important thing to understand is that the further you get from the standard casting method -- wand and spell -- the harder magic becomes. The caster needs to make up for the lacking components with willpower and understanding. To cast without a wand _and_ wordless, like Merlin did, is an incredibly rare and gifted achievement."

Kreacher turned and made a scoffing sound, snapping his fingers in the direction of Sirius's teacup. A small curl of steam lifted from the surface of the tea, now hot once more. "Master knows best, of course," proclaimed Kreacher as he solemnly snapped his finger at a rug that began beating itself with a rolling pin, little clouds of dust punctuating the air as it thumped away.

Ginny laughed, surprised at Kreacher's casual use of wandless magic. She remembered the extra essay she had to present in Professor Binns's class last year, which had been on the Wizarding Council that banned the use of wands among non-humans. Was house elf magic different, in that they didn't need a wand? If so, where did magic come from?

* * *

Ginny peered down the hallway, finally finding where Kreacher had gone off to. He stood quietly in Regulus's old room, his large, orb-like eyes staring reverently at a framed photograph of Sirius's brother in his Slytherin robes.

Ginny wanted to know more, to understand his devotion to Regulus, even after all these years. But the last time she'd asked about him, Kreacher had started banging his head against the wall. Was it a house elf thing that they couldn't talk about their masters? Or something that Kreacher had been commanded to do? She supposed it didn't matter, there were other things that Ginny was more interested in knowing.

"Kreacher," Ginny asked quietly, trying not to startle him. "How do you do magic without a wand? I suppose it's a thing that house elves can do?"

Kreacher stared at her for a moment before shrugging. "Not for me to know," he said simply, turning back to the picture of Regulus. He began dusting carefully around the edges of the frame, taking special care around the initials stamped on the nameplate: _RAB_. "Elves aren't wizards, don't use a tool for every task. Wands are not needed for magic as a fork is not needed for eating."

That made sense to Ginny. After all, she had accidentally used magic a number of times before she came to Hogwarts. She hadn't known that magic was the cause of all of her accidents, of course, but it had been present all the same. Wands probably just made everything easier and faster, like riding a broom instead of walking.

"Are there other creatures that can do magic without a wand?"

"Yes, there are many, but Kreacher does not know them all," Kreacher droned in his low voice, clearly tired of this line of questioning. He turned his back to Ginny, stretching onto his tiptoes to reach a shelf covered in old tomes that likely hadn't been touched in a decade.

"So, lots of different creatures have their own magic? Like house elves and kneazles and centaurs?" Ginny prodded lightly.

Kreacher shook his head slowly as if she were missing something rather obvious. "There is just magic, not elf magic or wizard magic or centaur magic. It all comes from the same place."

"And where is that?"

Kreacher gestured vaguely to the air, exasperated. "Somewhere. Not for me to know, not for me to know. Wasn't born yet."

"Oh." Ginny hadn't expected much from Kreacher, but he had become _slightly_ less taciturn in all the conversations she had with him.

After a few moments, Kreacher turned hesitantly, as if unused to having a conversation. "From before him, the one _master_ speaks of. The Elfsbane." It was clear from the way he spit the word 'master' that he meant Sirius.

"The Elfsbane? Is that what the house elves call Merlin?" Ginny asked in surprise. She had never heard anyone mention that before, but then again most of the things she knew about Merlin were lies fed to the muggles to keep magic a secret. "That's who you mean, Merlin? What happened with Merlin and house elves? And are there any other types of elves?"

"No other elves, Kreacher thinks. And no friend to elves, Merlin, no friend at all. Not like brave Master Regulus. Defender of house elves." Kreacher clutched at the hem of the old sack that he wore for clothes, twisting the dirty cloth in his fingers.

"I'm sorry if this is rude, but why do you wear that?"

Kreacher looked at the cloth covering his body, staring at it intently as if he hadn't looked at it in a very long time. "It is the mark of Kreacher's position in the noble house of Black. If Master gave clothing, Kreacher would be dismissed. Then Kreacher's head would be put on the wall, next to mother's, if lucky. That is what Mistress would have done." His voice betrayed no emotion, and Ginny couldn't tell if he was being serious.

It felt strange the way everyone else just seemed to ignore him, like he was a part of the furniture or an old portrait covered by a curtain. He was always cleaning when she saw him, but most of the time she didn't see him around the house. Did Kreacher have a home that he went to elsewhere? Or did he live somewhere in Grimmauld Place?

"Was your mother a house elf for the Black family, too?"

Kreacher simply nodded.

"How about any other family?"

Kreacher stopped and stood very still for a long while. "Kreacher… had a son, once. That's what Mistress said."

"Had?" asked Ginny. "What happened?"

Kreacher shook his head, turning for the door. "Not for me to know, not for me to know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you feel about that last little Kreacher detail?
> 
> Like, they definitely were breeding house elves, right? How else do you get more of them?
> 
> *Remember Ginny's convo with Firenze in Ch 10 of GW & the Chamber of Secrets?


	2. Black Wave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to @FloreatCastellum for some great suggestions on how to fix the interview scene (#3 this chapter)! Definitely pointed me in the right direction and vastly improved the scene!
> 
> Additional special 'thank you's to my wonderful beta who gave me some great advice on scenes 2 & 4 as well! I'm very pleased with the end result!

##  **Black Wave**

_Black wave coming will it hit_

_I can taste the fear yeah it’s written on my lips_

_Sipping on a cold one waiting for the rinse_

_Woke up with an omen tatted on my wrist_

_Black wave coming will it drop_

_I can see the fear yeah it’s written on the wall_

_Who you gonna trust when the killer is the cop_

_Fire in my bloodstream, water in my lungs_

  * _K.Flay, 2017_



* * *

Ginny stirred in the dark of her room, breathing slowly as the clenching from her nightmare began to fade. She sighed, wishing that this was behind her. So far, nothing had happened to convince her that the dream was real, but she still couldn't shake the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong.

Moving to the window, Ginny threw the curtains aside and slid the latch open to let in the fresh air from outside. She breathed deeply, relishing the cool dampness that permeated the night, the sounds of the pond animals drifting softly up the hill. Godric's Hollow was a long way from the busy streets of London, but Ginny was learning to enjoy the quiet.

Back in London, the sounds of street traffic and sirens punctuating the night were a normal occurrence, and first she'd found it hard to sleep without the constant background sound. Somehow the years had turned the buzz into something calming that she'd never expected to miss, the silence feeling like a breath held to postpone delivering bad news. Eventually the quiet began to feel nice, too.

Just down the block, there was a soft popping sound, and a shadow jutted its way across her window as a man appeared in the soft light of a flickering streetlamp. He quickly adjusted his coat and began walking for the Potter's door, his gait confirming for Ginny that James had just returned home.

_'Hmmm,'_ Ginny thought to herself, _'Why was he out so late? He usually doesn't work past dinner time, and certainly not past my bedtime.'_

Ginny waited a few minutes, wondering if James would go straight to bed so she could sneak out for a glass of milk. Finally, she crept on silent toes, hoping not to betray her wakefulness if he was still awake. Sure enough, the kitchen light was on, and James was speaking to Lily in hushed tones. Ginny snuck closer to listen.

"Are you sure, James? It couldn't have been a mix-up, or a mistake? And this is only coming out now?"

"That's the thing; the auror who witnessed it, Gawain Robards, came back and signed off that the kiss had happened. After that he went on holiday for two weeks, but never came back to the Ministry. He's _still_ missing. They've sent his trainee over to his flat to check on him, but I doubt he's just skipped out for a few extra days. He's Scrimgeur's right hand man! It can't just be a coincidence."

Silence followed, and Ginny could feel the frantic beating of her heart. The more she heard, the more her mind made the connections between what James was saying and her nightmare. It _had_ to be about Voldemort's kiss.

"Do they have any leads?" Lily whispered, her voice taking on a steely sharpness that Ginny had never heard before. "What do you think happened?"

There was a long pause, and Ginny could imagine the expression on James' face whenever he had to talk about something unpleasant. "They're saying that the kiss happened as scheduled, but Quirrell must've escaped afterwards somehow. Still speculation at this point. Apparently the dementors are furious about it and are demanding permission to leave Azkaban and hunt Quirrell down. We'll have to pull the records at Robards's vacation spot in Brighton and see if he actually left, but I think…"

After hearing James mention Quirrell, Ginny was certain that this was related to her dreams. She tried to sneak closer and bumped into a vase that stood on a table in the hallway, managing to catch it in time before it fell, but not before she gave herself away.

James and Lily turned at the sound, and Ginny caught the look of fear and surprise on their faces before they shifted back into tired smiles.

"Oh, hello Ginny. I'm sorry if we woke you, were we speaking too loudly?" Lily asked.

Ginny shook her head and walked into the kitchen to sit down at the table with the Potters. "It's him, isn't it? Voldemort broke out?"

The Potters shared a look, and James scratched wearily at a spot on his arm before averting his eyes. "We don't know everything yet, but yes, right now it looks like Quirrell escaped from Azkaban. At least that's what the aurors are saying, though they've always said escape was impossible. You might've heard about Quirrell at school, he taught Defense Against The Dark Arts during Harry and Ron's first year. He…"

"He had Voldemort on the back of his head." Ginny didn't want to have this swept under the rug or explained away because she was just a kid, she had to know. "So it really did happen, didn't it? Voldemort escaped?"

Lily's fingers ghosted over her mouth, as if she was afraid to confirm it with James. He shook his head. "I don't think so, the auror and Wizengamot representative who witnessed the dementor's kiss -- wait, do you know what the kiss is?"

Ginny nodded, the feeling of terror pooling unpleasantly in her gut as she remembered her brief encounter with a dementor last year. 

James continued, "Well, both of them confirmed that the kiss was performed on… Voldemort as scheduled. It was being kept out of the news in case his supporters wanted to try something, but Fudge was going to do a presser to announce that the 'era of fear had ended'. The aurors think Quirrell wasn't affected by it and was able to use the distraction to escape. It's an egregious lapse in security, if true…"

"It's a lie!" Ginny growled, surprised to find herself nearly shouting. She felt the bile in her throat bubble to the surface, threatening to choke her. She knew it was true the first night she had the nightmare; Tom was out and on the loose. And she had simply sat there, waiting for someone to confirm it for her. And now he was free with _weeks_ of a head start. "Tom did it, I know he did."

"Ginny," started James, his hands spread placatingly. "I know you're worried, and trust me, I am too. We're going to get to the bottom of this. We still have two witnesses who agreed that Voldemort has been dealt with. I'm not going to just accept that at face value, but… "

"No, you don't understand. I've _seen_ it." Ginny took a deep breath to compose herself, and then launched into her description of the dream. She told the Potters everything she could remember: the laughter in Tom's throat and the surprise on the dying man's face, the way the dementors moved at Tom's command and the hand with the tattoo that gave him the wand -- the pain that wracked her body as Tom took control and twisted Quirrell's limp form to his will.

The Potters watched her in silence, listening to everything she said with rapt attention. When she'd finished, James sat quietly for a moment, scratching idly at his chin. "I need to talk to Fudge about this. If the dementors are involved _and_ Voldemort is out, then this is far worse than we thought. I'll get him on the floo immediately. Ginny, could you write down everything you can remember, everything you've told us?"

Lily stood up, pacing the room. "I'll lay the enchantments and check the cornerstone to make sure the protection runes aren't compromised. But if Voldemort is out..."

"I know, we'll need more. I'll talk to Moody first thing in the morning."

Lily nodded and turned back to Ginny, giving her shoulder a firm squeeze. "Thank you for telling us, dear. We'll get to the bottom of this, no matter what it takes."

And then they were off, and Ginny was alone with her thoughts. She grabbed a quill and paper and began writing everything she could. She took to it with an angry intensity, filling the page with every detail and sensation she could think of. The nightmare was the same -- _always_ the same -- and Tom had planted it vividly in her mind, whether he knew it or not.

Ginny hated how he could still haunt her after all this time, so she poured that fury into her work. When she could think of nothing else to write, she began to sketch, smearing the ink in her haste to get the images onto paper. A skull and a snake on an extended wrist, a dead man's wand in hand. Dark eyes and hair and a crooked nose. The hints of a smirk at the edge of his lips. The ink on her fingers and the face in her mind made her feel dirty, as if simply looking at the man's dark countenance had covered her soul in a thin film of grease.

"Are these…?" Lily began, stopping as she looked closer at the drawings. Ginny had to admit that they weren't very good -- she'd never been much of an artist, after all -- but they did _feel_ right.

"From the nightmare," Ginny confirmed. "The hand I remembered the clearest, and the tattoo was something like that. Is it Voldemort's? The snake and the skull?"

Lily nodded, staring at it closely. Ginny could tell that she was trying to remain calm, her knuckles white as she gripped the paper. "Yes, it's his. They called it the Dark Mark. His followers all..." 

"Alright, I've got the Minister on the floo in two minutes. I don't know how he'd managed to fall asleep after the news we got, but he was _not_ pleased to be woken up," James said, returning from his office. He flipped through Ginny's notes quickly, collecting all the parchment in a neat stack. "You did a great job on this, Ginny. You can go back to bed now, I'll handle Fudge."

"James," Lily whispered, handing him the drawing of the hand. "There isn't a shred of doubt about what that is."

He took the paper, blearily wiping at his eyes. "I thought I'd seen the last of these. I guess we're all fools for hope, at one time or another."

Ginny could tell that all of this meant a lot more to the Potters than she understood. They'd survived the first war, seen the things only hinted at in the news articles in Hogwarts' dusty archives. To them, all of this was very real. She supposed it was real to her now, too.

"This is the Death Eater who gave him the wand?" James confirmed to Ginny, holding up the drawing of the man's face. "Reminds me of a lot of the wanted posters back when I was in school and at the start of the war. He attracts a certain type, I suppose. Anyone you recognize?"

Lily stared at the image intently, her eyes taking in every detail with a calculating precision. "I don't know, it's a little vague, but even so…" She took the drawing from James, this time holding it lightly as if afraid to truly confirm. She studied it closely, her finger tapping anxiously at the edge. "It almost looks like…"

A single, sharp tone tolled from the other room, interrupting Lily and indicating that the Prime Minister had returned. "Sorry, got to go," James said, reaching over to rustle Ginny's hair. He kissed Lily on the cheek and rushed back to the office, waving them goodnight.

Ginny got up to leave, walking a few steps before she realized that Lily was still standing there. Lily's eyes were fixed on the place that the page had been, her arms crossed as she was lost in thought. After a moment, she looked at her fingers, the tips stained dark with ink. Lily shook her head and walked to the kitchen window, staring out into the night.

Ginny crept back to her bedroom and crawled under the covers, restlessness making her fidget in the sheets, the silence too heavy with foreboding for comfort. Thankfully, when she finally drifted off to sleep, the dream did not come again.

* * *

Everyone sat in silence, the news that James had shared about his call with Fudge slowly sinking in. Ginny had known most of it, of course, but she didn't really understand the political implications that Fudge had been so worried about. It sounded like he was more afraid of losing votes to the Heritage Party than of Voldemort escaping -- or as he continued to insist, Quirrell. Wouldn't letting Voldemort go free and start a war lose him more votes? Wouldn't Fudge become a target, too?

There was something inside Ginny that wanted to scream and rage at the injustice of it all. These _adults_ in the Ministry, who had lived through the dark times of Voldemort's reign, still weren't taking him seriously. James had told the family that he was going to be raising a public inquiry to force Fudge to deal with it, but even that was just a band-aid for a gaping wound. And James was taking a big risk, too, especially after Fudge had expressly told them to keep quiet about the breakout.

"What do we do now?" Fred asked, his face drawn and tight. George sat next to him, jaw clenched and eyes dark. Ginny wasn't the only one who had lost parents by Voldemort's hand, after all.

"We fight, right?" Ron asked. "Like you did when you were in school. Join the Order."

"None of you are of age, so your trace is still active. Not much good you can do with that; any spell you cast will tell the Ministry, _and anyone else watching,_ exactly where you are," Sirius answered, his elbows resting heavily on his knees. "But there's a lot more to war than the front lines. The other side will be recruiting -- especially at Hogwarts."

"And Hogwarts is still the safest place," Lily said, standing to pace the room. "Hogwarts has Dumbledore and the other professors, as well as centuries of the best protective magic ever cast."

"What does that matter?" Ginny asked, her anger at the Ministry's indifference roiling her stomach. "Didn't Tom get on campus each of the last _two_ years? And as a teacher the first year, too."

"Yeah," Harry continued, looking at Ginny out of the corner of his eye. "If we aren't going to fight, shouldn't we go into hiding or something? If he's going to try to come for Ginny again?"

Was her presence endangering everyone, now that Voldemort was out of Azkaban? She had blamed herself for Tom's diary for a long time, but she'd finally come to terms with the fact that she was still a victim. But hadn't her existence exposed the Potters to the threat of Voldemort? Would any of this have happened if she hadn't come to Hogwarts in the first place?

"If he's coming after me, aren't I making everyone else unsafe?" Ginny asked, feeling the uneasiness spread through her.

"Bullocks," shot Ron immediately. "We're family, if he's coming for you he'll have to get through all of us first."

James put his hand on Ron's shoulder and smiled. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. And Hogwarts will be ready; you won't be alone, the Order is going to be there, too"

James went on to explain how Remus Lupin, a good friend and a member of the Order, took the Defense Against the Dark Arts position for the coming year. And aurors Alastor Moody and Nymphadora Tonks would be stationed at Hogwarts, too. 

"Best of all," added Sirius, cracking a smile. "I'll be spending parts of the year at the Three Broomsticks. And, if I'm lucky, flirting with Rosmerta."

"We know Hogwarts won't be completely safe, but you've got people there to support you." James looked at each of them in turn. "I'll be honest with you. If Voldemort really is back, we have to assume he's going to be building an army. That means his old crowd of Death Eaters that stayed out of Azkaban and some of the purebloods who did nothing during the last war, plus anyone who is dissatisfied with the way things have been changing."

James paced the room, his face sharp as he recounted what he expected to happen. "Voldemort will work with spies. In the Ministry. At Hogwarts. Maybe even in the Order, whether they spy willingly or not. Hogwarts will be the safest, because it will be the closest thing we have to a headquarters for the Order."

"Won't we be an even bigger target, then? If Hogwarts is the Order headquarters?" Ron asked, his eyes flicking between Lily and James. 

"We don't think so," Lily answered. "We think the Ministry will be his first priority, since it is the seat of power. But we also want you to have an exit plan."

Sirius unfurled a rough map of the school, a few key areas marked in greater detail. They explained that there are a number of passages off the school grounds, most leading to Hogsmeade village in various places. Sirius was busy pointing out an exit on the fourth floor when Fred interrupted.

"No, that one's caved in, but the hump-backed witch is still open. Straight shot to the Honeydukes cellar."

"Did you tell them about that one?" James asked Sirius, a smile spreading across his face.

Sirius shook his head. "Didn't need to, I just taught them to think like we did and let the rest take its course."

"I'm glad the legacy will live on," James laughed. "I'm sure they'll be giving us a run for our money soon enough."

"Ha! They'll need to do a lot more than that to top us!" Sirius exclaimed, reaching out and slapping James on the shoulder. "Legends until the end, didn't we always say?"

James grinned back, clearly just as pleased with himself as Sirius was, but Lily just shook her head at them and turned back to the kids. "If the worst happens, Hogwarts might find itself under attack against Voldemort and his forces. It's important that you stick together and keep each other safe. If there is fighting, your first priority is to find each other and get out. Understand?"

"We can't fight, even if they come to school?" Harry argued, his expression incredulous. "What's the Order going to be doing?"

"Order business is on a need-to-know basis," James said. "And before you argue, that's not based on your ability. The more the information spreads, the greater the risk, and the more likely someone untrustworthy finds out. There were mistakes made last time. Mistakes that got people killed."

Lily reached out, lightly smoothing James' shirt as a pained expression ran across her face. James didn't react, though. He was too busy staring at Sirius, their jaws clenched in silent anger.

"Someone betrayed the Order?" Ginny asked, trying to get a read from any of the adults.

"Yes," Lily finally answered, not meeting Ginny's eyes. "Someone we thought we could trust."

"Someone we treated like a brother," added Sirius, grinding the words out, something dark taking up residence behind his eyes.

* * *

_'Potter Inquires - Who Is The Mysterious, Escaped PRISONER OF AZKABAN?'_ blazed the newspaper headlines from every direction. Ginny shivered, feeling the eyes around Diagon Alley following them as she and James made their way to the offices of the Daily Prophet. She quietly thanked the light rain that fell around them and kept the shoppers mostly inside, the drops from above blocked by the invisible canopy that James had charmed for them.

"Is Fudge going to mad? Because you disobeyed?"

James gave her a lopsided grin. "I don't work for Fudge, actually. I represent the magical communities of Devonshire. I owe deference to the Prime Minister, and he is the leader of our coalition government, but it's my duty to work for the people first. But yes, Fudge is going to be furious with me. I've forced his hand quite a bit, he can't sweep it all under the rug now without looking like he's ignoring a crisis."

Ginny watched her feet as she walked and pulled her raincoat tighter around her, not wanting to see if anyone was gawking. Had she gotten James in trouble, by telling him her dream? But wasn't that exactly what she was supposed to do? Tell the truth, even if it was hard?

"Are you alright, Ginny? Trust me, everything is going to be fine. Cuffe's the editor and an old Slug Clubber, and I'll be with you the whole time. It will be a quick piece about your heroics last year, and a good reminder of who they're dealing with when you give your testimony at the inquiry. You're going to be great," James added, ruffling her hair. He turned and waved at some passing wizards, each in Ministry robes, and Ginny nervously tried to straighten her braids.

"I think I met the editor at the Halloween party, with Professor Slughorn. That's when he said he wanted to do a story about me. _The Girl Who Lived_ ." Ginny was getting tired of her collection of titles and all the expectations that clung to them. _Chosen One_. Like she was some character in a book meant to fight this great evil. She was turning twelve soon, and all she wanted was to be a normal kid again. It was almost funny; all those years she dreamed about becoming a professional footballer, and now she was more famous than she'd ever imagined. But she'd never expected it would cost so much.

"See? You already know the editor." James adjusted his coat and stowed his wand, no longer needing protection from the rain. "And if you change your mind, we can always go, alright?"

Ginny nodded. She'd known from the day she met Lockhart in Flourish and Blotts that it would be like this; all fanfare and obligations. The only thing she'd ever learned from him was that people would be telling her story, whether she wanted them to or not. At least this way she could control it and have the interview on her terms.

James paused before opening the door to the office. "Ready?"

"As ever," Ginny shrugged, and followed him through.

For a moment, everyone seemed calm, lazily turning to see who'd come through the door. But the moment they recognized James, they were like piranhas, darting in with questions before he had a chance to react.

"Mr. Potter, what do you have to say about the escaped prisoner of Azkaban?"

"Mr. Potter, your opinion on the allegations that you've cowed to the Heritage Party on the Hogwarts Oversight Act?"

"Is it time for Dumbledore to go? Potter you must admit, both the fiasco with Lockhart and _whatever_ happened in the Chamber…" 

James tried to quiet them, but the reporters kept shouting over each other, trying to force their question into the front of the queue. Ginny stepped to the side and out of sight; she definitely wasn't prepared to deal with something like that. Maybe this had all been a mistake, maybe she should've pushed it off for at least another… 

"Ginny Weasley?" asked a witch, her eyes darting to the scar and back with barely a flicker, but Ginny noticed. She always noticed. "Here for your interview? The editor is in a meeting at the moment, but I can take you back if you'd like some peace and quiet while you wait."

Ginny looked to James and he nodded, turning back to the reporters to try to keep them at bay. She followed the woman down a side corridor and through the mostly empty news floor at the center of the building.

All around her, memos and notes zipped around the room on their own, many coming from a chute that climbed the wall and emptied out from the ceiling. There was a sense of ordered chaos that permeated the newsroom, something that mirrored the busy streets of London outside the Leaky Cauldron.

"Those are from the mailroom," informed her guide. "Tips and leads come in from all over the country, and then they're sorted and whisked off to the appropriate staff researchers. If there's a story there, it goes out to the reporters and journalists to follow up on. Then the drafts," she explained, pointing to larger sets of documents piling onto a small cart, "are all collected here. The editor reviews them and then they're sent down to printing to be arranged and adjusted for the daily news."

Ginny sat outside the editors office, watching as the mayhem whirled around her in a constant flow of information. It was mesmerizing, and nearly worth the madness of getting here to see it.

"He shouldn't be too long, dear, he's just got the Minister on the floo," assured the witch, tucking her quill behind her ear as she patted Ginny on the shoulder.

That was fine with Ginny; the editor could take all day for all she cared. Watching the movements of the newsroom was fascinating, and she wasn't overly excited to be profiled for the readership of the Daily Prophet.

"Ms. Weasley?" came a sickly-sweet voice from behind her. A blonde witch strode into view, her hair put away tightly with judicious precision, two sets of curls framing her face. "Rita Skeeter. Why don't we have a chat in my office while you wait? It will be better than sitting around listening to the receptionist answer owls all day."

The woman who'd shown Ginny in narrowed her eyes at Ms. Skeeter, but left without another word.

"Come along, now, I don't bite." She grinned, tilting her glasses forward in what Ginny could only assume was meant to be a non-threatening position. "Your friend Colin had fun in his interview, did you know? What lovely pictures, such a talented boy."

She'd interviewed Colin? The name Rita Skeeter did sound familiar, where had she heard it from? Maybe Colin had mentioned it in his letter? Rita gestured to her office, just down the hall from Editor Cuffe's, and Ginny shrugged. What could be the harm in a quick chat?

Once Ginny sat down, Rita closed the door and adjusted the blinds, blocking anyone outside the office from seeing. "Don't want any looky-loos, now do we?" Rita asked by way of an explanation. "You don't mind if I use a quick quotes quill, do you? A bit easier on the wrist," she pouted, mimicking writing in the air.

"Oh, I don't mind," Ginny said, watching with interest as Rita pulled a green feather quill from her desk. The quill proceeded to ink itself and take position atop a blank notebook.

"Let's cover some of the basics while we wait for the Editor. No sense in wasting his time with the easy stuff. I'm sure he won't be long," said Rita, reaching across the desk to pinch Ginny's cheek. "So, Ginny Weasley, the Chosen One, the Girl Who Lived. I'd love to know what makes you tick. What brings you to the _Prophet_ today?"

"I'm meeting with the editor for an interview," Ginny answered, confused. Didn't she know that?

"Yes, but why now? Why today? It's been a year since you've come back to the Wizarding world, a year of hiding away from the eager masses."

"I wasn't hiding," Ginny insisted. "I was at school, at Hogwarts."

"Wonderful. And how was it, coming for your first year? Frightening? Overwhelming? Both, of course, I'm sure of it. And the Chamber of Secrets, tell me all about that." Rita leaned across her desk, her canines flashing violently as she spoke. "Our readers are _ever_ so interested in that." 

"Well," thought Ginny, images of the Chamber flashing in her mind. Images of Tom. Was she allowed to talk about the Chamber? Dumbledore had told Lucius Malfoy after all, and Ginny was sure he had been one of those Death Eaters. And hadn't Harry written to the Prime Minister, to explain what had happened and make sure Hagrid was released? 

So Ginny told her about the snake and the sword, about finding Harry and destroying the diary to break Voldemort's hold. She even told Rita the part about Lockhart blasting himself with a memory charm and the cave in. Rita wanted to know all about that, too, of course. She also took special interest in the letter that Harry had written to Minister Fudge, and what Harry was doing in the Chamber in the first place. But she didn't tell her about holding Harry in the Chamber after the battle; about the way the cold stone had cut into her arm as she gripped him tight, willing him to survive. Those thoughts were only for her. 

"You and your friends felt comfortable calling on Professor Lockhart, did you see him as an advisor and a friend?"

"No."

"More of a mentor then?" Rita asked.

"No, he's a fraud. He made up all those stories about helping people and put memory charms on the real heroes," Ginny argued. "Anyone like that deserves what he got."

"I'd heard from other students that Professor Lockhart hadn't lived up to his reputation. So you think Headmaster Dumbledore made a mistake in hiring Gilderoy Lockhart? I couldn't agree more, darling. Very questionable indeed, especially after last year's fiasco with Quirinus Quirrell, but you'll know all about that from my exposé, _Dumbledore's Death Eater_ , of course." At this, Rita turned and pointed at a framed article, a man wearing a turban glared out from the page. Ginny realized that this must be the face of the wizard who Voldemort controlled in her dreams, twisting and breaking until he was satisfied.

"Now let's talk about Albus Dumbledore, the mysterious man behind the whole cabal," Rita said. "Is it true that he decided that you'd be raised by muggles? Why is that?"

"Oh, I think he was just trying to keep me safe, in case anyone wanted revenge."

"Revenge for _You Know Who's_ downfall? Do you mean the kind of revenge that could lead to the brutal 1985 murder of two muggles, Todd and Althea Shelton of Bethnal Green, outside of their home?"

"What, the Sheltons? I don't know what you're talking about. They died in a car accident. I _know_ they died in a car accident." And she really did; she remembered _seeing it,_ remembered the way Mr. Shelton had swerved to avoid the deer, the headlights of an oncoming car flashing into view. Blinding white brightness, and then nothing. She'd woken up in the emergency room hours later, the cold light of fluorescents bathing her hospital gown in a sickly glow. She hadn't been able to see the Sheltons' bodies afterwards, hadn't been allowed to go to the funeral...

"Oh, are you quite sure?" Rita's mouth curved into a cruel smile as she swept an accordion folder out from under her desk. Spreading the contents out, she slid a number of articles to Ginny, many of them with headlines like; 'Vicious Murder of Muggle Couple, When Will The Terror End?' or 'Werewolf Slaughters Unsuspecting Muggles, Parliament Must Act!' and even 'Time To Muzzle The Monsters: Werewolves Strike Again'.

The images of wizards moved across the page, setting up the crime scene or taking photographs, but Ginny was drawn to the backdrop. It had been a long time since she'd seen the Sheltons' home, but she recognized the red door and the plant just inside the window. There were splatters of blood on the flowerpots and beside the mail slot, cruel lines that stood stark against the stone walls.

Ginny stared at the articles, something like electricity twisting in her belly. Her skin was too hot right now, and she felt claustrophobic with the crushing implications of what Rita was showing her. But there was still the memory of the car accident, she had _been there_ . She _knew_ that they'd died in the crash. 

"You don't remember, do you? I thought as much; a memory charm, if my hunch is worth anything. And it's _always_ right. It's common practice when muggles are involved." Rita leaned back and adjusted her glasses, her eyes full of smug satisfaction.

Had she been given a false memory of the Sheltons' deaths? It was what Ada had told her happened to Moaning Myrtle's parents, the Warrens, after Tom murdered her. "I… I…" she muttered, trying to think of something to say -- anything -- but it was like her brain had been turned off.

"Headmaster Dumbledore must've been involved, I wonder if he performed the memory charm on you himself? He doesn't seem the type to trust someone else to do it, if you ask me. Do you think Professor Dumbledore hasn't told you because he doesn't trust you? I must say, Ginny, that I can understand why he doesn't. When I looked at your muggle school records…" 

"You looked at my school records?" Ginny snapped, panic roiling in her belly. She felt hot and clammy at the same time. Was it even legal for Rita to look at her records?

"Is that a problem, dear? Is there something you'd rather me not see?"

"I just... deserve privacy." 

Rita laughed, the sound grating to Ginny's ears. "You're a celebrity, you left privacy behind you the night you survived the killing curse. But I can see why you didn't want these to get out, quite a disturbing pattern of behavior… "

"No, stop…" Ginny tried to interrupt, pushing her chair back to stand.

"...Quite a few disciplinary infractions, bouncing from foster care to foster care, too much trouble for anyone to handle…" 

"Stop," Ginny insisted, her strength fleeing in the face of her fear. _How could she know?_ "You don't understand, that's not true…" 

Ginny had to get out of here, she needed to be alone and away from all the pestering questions. She reached for the door, trying to twist the knob, but it wouldn't budge. "Let me out," she commanded angrily.

"Isn't that what that muggle boy asked you to do, to let him out? After you'd trapped him in the basement downstairs when you were living with Ms. Cameron, your foster parent?"

"No," said Ginny, shaking her head violently. "That's not how it happened." She pulled angrily at the door, wanting to shout at Rita, but all she could think about was the cruel boy who'd chased her and teased her. How he'd tried to corner her but she'd been able to escape.

The basement door didn't have a lock on it, and the boy had been so much stronger that she was sure he would yank the door from her grasp and shove her down the stairs. She'd held the door tight and hoped harder than anything that it would somehow stay closed, and it did. When she'd finally stepped away, the door itself was gone, and the shouts of the boy on the other side were muffled by the thick wall that stood between them.

"They had to use muggle construction equipment to get him out, didn't they? I believe it's called a bulldozer?"

"Stop, just stop!" Ginny shouted, twisting the door handle. "Let me go!"

"I wonder how many more memory charms were performed that day, do you happen to know? I think we're finding a bit of a pattern here, Ms. Weasley. And it did take the muggles ever so long to get the poor boy out, there would be plenty of unanswered questions…" 

"Let. Me. Out!" In her anger, Ginny felt a wave of magic leave her, cracking and shattering the window panes of Rita's office. Ginny's head snapped back toward her, and Rita's face twisted into a cruel grin. She'd gotten just what she wanted.

Finally the door handle twisted in her hand, and Ginny stepped into the hallway, now littered with shards of pulverized glass.

James came running around the corner, his face going white with shock when he surveyed the hallway around them. Rita chose that moment to exit the office behind Ginny, waving coyly. "Hello Mr. Potter, I'm afraid Ginny here has a bit of a temper."

"Shit," said James simply rushing forward to grab Ginny's hand. The photographers from earlier had come around the corner as well, their flashbulbs blinding Ginny as James tried to force his way back through the crowd. 

"Did I do something wrong?" Ginny asked, panicking as she tried to keep her head down. "I'm sorry about the glass, I really didn't mean to."

"It's not your fault, Ginny. Let's just focus on getting out of here."

* * *

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will herself back to sleep. It was useless, of course. The sheets were too sweaty, the air too stale and stuffy. The sense of shame that had marred her soul since she'd left Diagon Alley stayed with her, and she felt heavy with its weight. Tom's voice would rise to the surface from time to time, mostly just the echo of his laughter, but it didn't take much for her to imagine what he'd say. That she was foolish and gullible. That she deserved what she got. Maybe she agreed.

After James had told her about who Rita was and the types of articles she'd written, Ginny knew that this was just the start of it. She kept imagining the scene over and over, helpless to change it or deviate from her mistakes. Having Rita know about her muggle life was bad enough, but she had dragged both James and Harry into it. What if it hurt James's career? What if she'd embarrassed the whole family?

She'd told Rita _everything_ ; about the Chamber and the diary and even Harry. _'Oh god,'_ she thought to herself, realizing what this meant, _'I told her all about Harry and his letter.'_ He would be furious when he found out, wouldn't he? Whatever Rita printed about her, it couldn't be as bad as what she'd done to the Potters. To Harry. She had to tell him, to prepare him for the worst, didn't she?

_'Are you sure?'_ she imagined Tom asking. _'What if he hates you for bringing it up? What if Rita doesn't print anything about Harry, but he still knows you betrayed him because you couldn't keep your mouth shut… '_

The whisper was her own, but it had all the qualities of Tom's voice. It was a trap, wasn't it? Either she told Harry and he would hate her, or she said nothing and hoped that it would all blow over. Or it would be ten times worse. What was the bigger risk? If she said nothing, maybe she could get lucky, maybe...

There was a soft knock at her bedroom door and Ginny gave an audible sigh. The Potters didn't deserve this from her, but she couldn't bring herself to show her face. She couldn't tell Harry the truth, not yet. She'd ruined everything, been an embarrassment…

"I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to see the inside of your room," came a familiar voice. After a moment, Luna Lovegood peered around the edge of the door, wisps of her golden hair lit from behind like a halo. "Am I interrupting something? People tell me I do that sometimes."

"No, I'm just… having a bad day." Ginny collapsed back on her bed, relieved that it had only been Luna at the door. "Wait, how are you here right now?"

Luna came to sit on the side of Ginny's bed, turning on the lamp so it lit the room in low, yellow light. "My daddy has a magazine, it's just wonderful and it's called the Quibbler. He came to interview Mr. Potter for an article, and I'd already finished picking all the loosestrife down by our pond, so I thought I might come along. I hope I'm not intruding."

"I'm glad you're here," Ginny answered honestly. She needed something to distract her from the brooding melancholy that had plagued her since the interview.

Cleo hopped into the bed, walking over to Luna and bunting her head against Luna's outstretched hand. "Well, hello there, Cleo. I hope you're having a good summer," Luna cooed, smiling widely as the kneazle curled up between them and purred softly.

"Do you live nearby?" Ginny asked, stretching and sitting up against the headboard behind her.

"Oh yes, I'm just over in Ottery St. Catchpole. It's not far from the Burrow, where your family used to live. But I took the floo."

Ginny sat up, her interest piqued. "You live near my family's old house? Have you seen it before? Is it... still there?" Maybe there was a chance that a portrait had survived, but she tried not to get her hopes up. 

"I haven't seen the Burrow, no," Luna answered, her voice level and airy.

Ginny nodded as she stroked Cleo's fur, lost in thought about her lost home. The Burrow. She would visit herself one day, Ginny decided, and maybe that nagging sense of longing would go away. Even now she was getting her hopes up, though she wasn't sure what it was for. Tom would have torn her apart for that, her _mindless optimism_. Wanting things only left her open to being hurt, a weakness for her enemies to exploit.

"I have seen the grove that grew around it. The trees are very dense and beautiful, but it isn't my place to be." Luna smiled, turning as if that was simply that.

"There's a grove there now? Did someone plant it, like a memorial?" It was a pleasant thought, that her family might be remembered by someone else. Ginny thought of the photos of them waving and smiling, doing spells and opening presents, like little messages for her sprinkled across time. The idea that others held memories of them made the family she had lost more _real_ , more certain.

"Oh, I suppose that might be it. My dad says it wouldn't have been the village, as they didn't know what _really_ happened, but it could have been someone else. He also says it's just as likely to be faeries. Or perhaps dryads."

Ginny smiled and rubbed at her eyes, wishing she'd been able to change before Luna had arrived, though she didn't seem to mind. "Where do you learn about all this stuff?"

"In my research, and the things in daddy's magazine."

Ginny thought about her conversation with Firenze the centaur. Sirius had said centaurs were into mystical things, maybe Luna knew about them? She supposed it wouldn't hurt to ask. "Have you come across anything about centaurs, in your research?"

"There's quite a bit to know about centaurs, but I do know some things. What are you interested in?"

Ginny worried at her lip for a moment. She thought she could trust Luna, and Ginny didn't know who else she could ask. "It's a secret, so this just stays between us, alright?"

"Oh, I'm quite good at keeping secrets," Luna assured her, grinning widely. "Sometimes I feel as if everyone else has secrets they're not telling me, so it will be nice to have one of my own to keep."

Ginny took a deep breath and thought about how best to put it into words. "I met a centaur last year, when I left the school grounds. He rescued me after I got stung by a giant spider in the Forbidden Forest. He called me a daughter of Avalon; do you know what that means?"

Luna thought for a moment, tilting her head to the side. "Well, Avalon was the realm of the sorceress Morgana, maybe your ancestors lived there once? Or you could be a descendant of Morgana, though I'm not sure how the centaur could know that." 

"Oh." It all seemed a little underwhelming as an explanation, especially after the gravity with which Firenze had spoken to her.

"Centaurs are known to be very gifted with divination and astrology," said Luna. "If they told you anything about your future, it's probably important."

"Is there anything important about being a descendant of Morgana? I don't know if the Weasley's would be related though..."

"The witches of Avalon were matriarchal, so it would be passed down the mother's line. The Prewett's were a pureblood family, one of the twenty-eight, so it could be true." Luna shrugged, as if the family legacies of witches and wizards were of little concern to her.

"Huh. Descended from an evil witch, it could be worse," allowed Ginny. "I suppose it _would_ be pretty exciting to have an ancient and powerful dark witch as an ancestor." She imagined a proud woman with dark hair and a crow, staring down Merlin as magic crackled in the air. Or maybe she'd been cruel and vicious like Tom, manipulating until she was under Merlin's skin…

"My mum told me once that Morgana wasn't an evil witch, just on the wrong side of victory. She said that the victors write the histories, and they usually tell their own tale and call it the truth."

"What happened to Avalon after Morgana was defeated?"

"The story says that Morgana tried to cast a spell so dark that it would've swallowed the world, but that Merlin defeated her and Avalon was destroyed instead. My mum said it's a load of hogwash, since swallowing the world would destroy Avalon, too. Morgana protected Avalon and she would have done anything to save it, even if it meant hiding it forever. Mum said the wizards were just jealous of her power, and rewrote history to cast her as the original sin. A tale of caution for witches with ambition."

Ginny wondered what to believe. Sirius seemed like he knew a lot about magic and gave Ginny good advice, but he'd been wrong about wandless magic, hadn't he? And dismissive of the centaurs, too. Firenze had been so certain about her, and he'd helped her think of how to defeat the basilisk, all from reading the stars. It had to mean something, didn't it?

Ginny knew what some of the students called Luna; _Loony Lovegood_. But they had called Ginny plenty of things that weren't true either. The more she thought about what Luna had said about powerful people rewriting history, the more it made sense. Many of the pureblood wizarding families looked down on other magical beings, claiming that was just the way it had always been. She saw it in the way Firenze made her promise to keep the centaurs location secret, in the way Hagrid and Kreacher were treated. And wizards didn't allow other beings to have wands, even though they could do magic.

With a stab of guilt, Ginny remembered Filch's Qwikspell letter and what Dumbledore had told her about how squibs were treated. She had done the same thing, hadn't she? Ginny's skin crawled with shame, and she resolved not to make that mistake again. Maybe Luna's mum was right and Avalon wasn't destroyed. She wished she could remember everything that Firenze had said to her in the forest that night, but she couldn't go back to ask him without risking his life.

Luna was silent for a few moments, her fingers toying with the edge of her skirt as she tried to straighten it out. "I'd like to rediscover it one day. Avalon, I mean. I'm sure I could do it."

"Even after it was lost for so long?"

Luna shrugged. "My mum always said things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end. If not always in the ways we expect."

"Do you think… would your mum teach me more about Avalon?" Ginny hoped it wasn't forward of her to ask.

Luna looked a little surprised, and her eyes fell. "She died when I was nine. She was a brilliant witch and used to experiment with spells to improve old ones and make new ones, but then she lost control of one, and it killed her."

"I'm sorry, Luna, I didn't know."

"That's alright, you don't have anything to be sorry about. Maybe I can find some of her old books about Morgana, if you still wanted to know?"

Ginny nodded, "I'd like that very much. We can read them together at school and maybe we'll find some clues for your search."

"Oh, that would be nice. It will be just like having friends," Luna said serenely.

"We are friends, Luna," Ginny said, grabbing her hand for reassurance. "And thank you for coming, I really needed a friend right now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Black wave coming... will it hit? (The answer is going to be a resounding yes, better watch out Gin!)
> 
> I hope everyone is looking forward to Rita's article - I'm sure it will be very pleasant and complimentary, and filled with verified facts.
> 
> *Luna's scene takes some direction from the conversation she has with Harry on the Hogwarts Express in Half Blood Prince (thanks @Abracabadger for pulling the text for me!), as well as the quote from her mum about 'lost things coming back' in Order of the Phoenix. Luna is such a precious bean and definitely one of my favorite characters (even though Harry doesn't like her radish earrings)!
> 
> **If you need a refresh, you can find Ginny's dream in the Epilogue (end of Ch12) of my first ChosenGin fic, Ginny Weasley and the Chamber of Secrets


	3. Dear Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been very excited to post this chapter, especially the 2nd 'scene'... ENJOY

##  **Dear Enemy**

_Dear enemy, all the words that you have said_

_Are like a cancer that grows inside my head_

_Dear enemy, I don't need to keep you down_

_Just keep it up, you'll run yourself into the ground_

_How could you do this to me?_

_Tell me did you feel good?_

_Did you care for me?_

_You know you're a super creep_

_'Cause the things you do won't let you sleep_

_Got no friends, only enemies_

_Now you got one more_

_'Cause you're dead to me_

  * _Night Club, 2016_



* * *

"All rise for the honorable members of the Wizengamot," announced the court crier, raising his arm as the members of the tribunal stood and began to filter out. Ginny could sense the murmurs building in pockets around the room as the recess began, threatening to boil over at any moment.

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing. It was too crowded with people, and she couldn't bear to turn and see them behind her, watching and waiting and whispering.

Ginny had thought that she would be explaining her dream, and maybe answering some questions about what she'd seen, but she never imagined they would be putting _her_ on trial. James had said the worst they would do would be to use their allotted time to say Ginny's testimony shouldn't be allowed. But the MPs for the Heritage Party had attacked her with rumors and hearsay, called her a liar and political pawn, whatever that was supposed to mean. How had they known about her time as a muggle? How could they know about her detentions, her foster homes, or the time she was written up by a policeman for spray painting the abandoned church?

Ginny did her best to quiet her beating heart, but she was _far_ beyond calm. She could feel the tears welling behind her eyes, but she was still too shocked to even cry. The chill from the large hall sunk into her oppressively, and Ginny shivered, the cold metal of the chair bringing gooseflesh to her skin. She needed to get out of here.

Footsteps approached, accompanied by the sharp ring of a metal cane on stone. Ginny lifted her head in time to see a sneer tear across the face of Lucius Malfoy. Something dark bloomed in Ginny's chest, and she promised herself that if she _ever_ had the opportunity to destroy him, she would. She swallowed the need to cry and held his gaze, defiant.

Lucius took his time standing above her, slowly removing his gloves as he continued to stare her down. "Dobby!" he shouted, gesturing with an open hand. A house elf scampered to Lucius's side, the elf's large eyes anxiously watching his cane.

Lucius snatched a rolled up newspaper from Dobby, striking him across the face harshly before tossing it in front of Ginny. She flinched at the sound, but her eyes were drawn to the picture emblazoned across the front page. Her, at the offices of the Daily Prophet, looking wild as she was surrounded by shattered glass and flashing cameras. The little version of her glared at the flashbulbs and gestured in frustration at Rita Skeeter as James tried to pull her away. Rita wore the hint of a satisfied grin, just barely visible as she pretended to scream in fright.

"I had Dobby here stop by the offices of the Prophet this morning, and I must say I was awarded with _quite_ a surprise. Why don't you keep that copy, you can consider it a birthday present. It was just yesterday, wasn't it, _Virginia_?" And with that, Malfoy was gone.

_How did he know her muggle name?_

_What other secrets and lies had Rita written in the paper?_

James arrived, coming around to crouch at Ginny's level. "Are you alright, Ginny? Malfoy and his lot have no shame. I'm so sorry, I had no idea they were planning…"

Ginny slid the newspaper in front of him, watching as his eyes scanned the page. "She found out my muggle name. She knew it before my interview, she's been asking people about me…"

"Ginny, we'll get this sorted, I'll talk to..."

"How? How can this be sorted? It's already too late, don't you see? You said the interview would be fine, you said the Wizengamot panel would be _fine,_ but they weren't _fine_. Everything just keeps getting worse and going all wrong and you aren't doing anything about it!" she hissed, nearly losing control of her temper.

Ginny wanted to scream and rage, to throw the chair and storm out, but she did her best to keep her voice down. She could still feel the eyes of the people in the room as they watched her, their low chatter reverberating throughout the chamber. Waiting. She couldn't give them an outburst, it was exactly what they were hoping to see. So she took the pain and pushed it away, letting it fester into a cold fury, and wiped the tears that fell traitorously from her eyes.

There was a strength in holding the fury inside her, she could sense it; another voice -- _her voice_ \-- to drown out Tom’s whispers. Ginny held onto it carefully, comforted by the fullness of it, and resolved herself to endure, one moment at a time. She snatched the paper from the table, and stood to leave.

"Ginny, I'm not sure that now is a good time to read that," James suggested. "Maybe Lily and I could read over it first, just to make sure…"

"I have to know," Ginny stated, feeling dangerous. Volatile. She couldn't walk around in public without understanding the rumors or secrets that had been spread about her. She couldn't go back to Hogwarts not knowing.

"Okay, okay," James relented, concern etched across his face. He looked as if he wanted to reach out and pull her to him, but Ginny shied away and he stopped, his head bowed. "We're here for you, Ginny, no matter what. I'm so sorry about all of this, I should've known better."

Ginny wiped at her eyes again, feeling guilty, but still too embarrassed and fragile to acknowledge it. James did look properly miserable now, though, so Ginny told him she wouldn’t be long. And then she ran to the nearest bathroom and locked herself inside.

* * *

GINNY WEASLEY: SECRETS OF THE CHAMBER... REVEALED!

_Child Savior. Chosen One. The Girl Who Lived. Ginevra Molly Weasley. She's all these things and more, but who is she, really? Who is the girl behind the scar, and what really happened the night of Ms. Weasley's ascendance, asks Rita Skeeter, Political Correspondent and Investigative Journalist for the Daily Prophet._

_When it comes to Ms. Weasley, as she demands to be called, separating fact from fiction is often impossible. It's been said that she is a gifted witch, a parselmouth, and a quidditch marvel, but also a pompous bully and a menace. Hidden away from prying eyes, Ms. Weasley is a household name and yet a complete mystery to the wizarding world. But was she hidden for her own safety, or for ours?_

_Until recently, she went by yet another name, a name that her and her 'protectors' have fought tooth and nail to keep secret, her muggle name: Virginia Shelton._

_In a conversation with a Daily Prophet reporter last month, concerned citizen and fellow Hogwarts student, Draco Malfoy, shared Ms. Weasley's muggle name -- as well as a number of disturbing stories of her behavior while at Hogwarts. Digging further, it became abundantly clear why Ms. Weasley wanted to hide her muggle name: so that she could hide the crimes and cruelties she committed among muggles as Ms. Shelton._

_In a recent interview with this reporter, Ms. Weasley quickly became furious and aggressive when pressed on her past and the disturbing catalogue of behavior she'd been known for among the muggles. When confronted about a young muggle boy she terrorized and magically trapped underground (full story,_ Trapped And Alone: A Chronicle of Terror _, found on page 4), Ms. Weasley even became violent, demanding that the interview was over and threatening this reporter in a fit of rage. Shortly after, Ms. Weasley lost control of her magic during an outburst -- a troubling display for any self-respecting witch or wizard -- and shattered the glass in the Daily Prophet's office._

_Fear not, dear readers, for as disturbing as her violent tendencies are, she's still a child, capable of little more than angry tantrums and self-righteous declarations. But that's not what Ms. Weasley would have you believe._

_Tutored in the art of deceit by famous fraudster and former Hogwarts professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Ms. Weasley is no stranger to making outlandish claims. During the interview, Ms. Weasley -- not yet twelve -- boasted of single-handedly finding the Chamber of Secrets and using the centuries-lost sword of Godric Gryffindor to kill a basilisk, an ancient creature of legend not seen in the UK for centuries._

_When asked about the attacks on muggleborns, which this newspaper has covered in great detail, Ms. Weasley went on to claim that the perpetrator was actually the secret Hogwarts diary of He Who Must Not Be Named. Were these simply lies meant to deceive the public and enhance her own celebrity, as her mentor and personal hero, Gilderoy Lockhart, had done? Or was she covering up something far more sinister, shielded from public scrutiny under a web of lies orchestrated by eccentric madman and Hogwarts headmaster, Albus Dumbledore?_

_Headmaster Dumbledore did not immediately reply by owl when asked these questions late last night, and thus this reporter is forced to imagine the reasons why he's so afraid to answer. Perhaps Dumbledore's finally lost his touch, allowing dangerous people and creatures to terrorize our children at their most vulnerable while the unqualified reap the privileges and perks of a Hogwarts post. Or perhaps this is all part of a broader plan to replace the Dark Lord with his own protégé, a young girl whose savage methods left this reporter fearing for her life on multiple occasions during a routine interview._

_Ms. Weasley demands to be taken at her word, but how good is her word? Who really is The Girl Who Lived? We may never know what happened in the Chamber of Secrets, and that's just how Dumbledore and Ms. Weasley want it._

_Continue reading on page 12 for Ms. Skeeter's full interview and in-depth profile:_ The Life and Lies of Ginny Weasley.

* * *

"I wish there was someplace I could hide," Ginny grumbled to Sirius, wiping furiously at her nose. The recess was nearly over, and the MPs were filing back in, their faces irritatingly smug. She could feel their search for her, their eyes greedily scanning the auditorium seating, probably wondering if she'd been crying. She had, but she wasn't now, and she certainly wasn’t going to let them see. "Is there a secret balcony we can watch from, or something?"

"No, but you're lucky they all hate me," whispered Sirius. "When my mother was the head of house Black, we had a seat in the second row, dead center."

Ginny didn't say anything. She could tell Sirius was just trying to joke so it didn't feel like such a big deal, but she saw through his stolen glances; he was worried. Still, she was glad Sirius had come. Lily hadn't been allowed to attend since she wasn't an MP or from an old pureblood family with an ancestral box, but Sirius had been game for it. She couldn't imagine sitting by herself, down in the witness box with the two aurors and the muggle bus driver who'd been questioned earlier.

As devastating as the article was, Ginny felt something almost akin to relief. She was so tired of worrying, so tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop. And to her surprise, the article said very little about the _actual_ events in the Chamber; and Rita was far too focused on spreading Ginny's secrets -- or making up some of her own -- to bring Harry into it. Not much of a silver lining, but Ginny clung to it, and the guilt she still carried for not telling him what she had said lightened ever so slightly.

Sirius nudged her. "You know, we could always pop off to the Leaky for a bite while we wait for James. Or we could head back to Grimmauld, whatever you want. James said you didn't have to stay…"

"I need to see this through," Ginny said, as much for herself as for Sirius. If she ran away now, if she let them see her flinch, then it would be over. They'd have all the proof they would need to dismiss the whole inquiry as some _act_ meant to grab attention, as Rita had insisted it would be.

_'...known for her outrageous lack of decorum, earning numerous black marks against her behavior throughout her muggle education. 'She's just the same at Hogwarts,' admitted her classmate, Mr. Malfoy. 'Broke the rules to join the quidditch team, attacked me and my friends in the Great Hall, just for the attention. A lot of us believe she was really the Heir of Slytherin, and it all got covered up because of who she is.' All does not bode well for Potter's Azkaban inquiry if Ms. Weasley is his star witness, and numerous MPs have shared their concerns with the Prophet on whether Potter is just trying to enhance his election prospects...'_

Sirius settled back into his chair more comfortably and fixed her with a knowing stare. "I understand; you can't let them see you hurting. Before I moved in with James, I used to scream and fight with my parents. I would never back down. When we were younger, Reg used to ask why I bothered fighting with them, why not just fake it. He never really understood why it was important. Why I couldn't just _let it go_. In the end, he proved my point."

Sirius was silent for a while after that, his jaw clenched tightly as he stared, unseeing, at the door that led from the chamber. Ginny didn't have anything to say, and the recess was just ending, so she settled low in her seat and watched as the ranking member of the Wizengamot called the session back into order. Barty Crouch -- the prosecutor, who Ginny remembered from her research on the war trials -- took the floor once again, spreading his papers out before him.

At first, Ginny had trouble understanding the complicated legal proceedings, but Sirius was soon explaining the terms and what had been concluded in the earlier sessions of the investigation. There were two witnesses to Voldemort's kiss that night; Gowain Robards, auror, and Severus Snape, for the Wizengamot. Crouch argued that Robards was drunk that night, per the testimony of the bus driver and two senior aurors, and had showed up late to sign off that the sentence had been carried out before going on an extended holiday to Brighton. Crouch then brought out a lengthy list of violations and scandals that Robards had supposedly been party to, though Ginny didn't understand what those had to do with the escape.

"This can't be right," whispered Sirius, his voice anxious. "Robards is Scrimgeur's right hand man, there's no way he'd tolerate these types of accusations. Who is feeding this information to Crouch…?"

"... can I assume that those violations are documented? I'd like to see them, as a member of this committee," James interrupted. He was pacing again. It made him look like a caged animal, the tension building in his shoulders as he hunched forward and shoved his hands in his pockets, fire blazing in his eyes while he stalked the floor. Ginny wasn't used to seeing him like this; it was a little unsettling to know it was because of her.

"They'll be made available," Crouch ground out, his frustration evident. "And now, if you'll allow me, I have a witness to call to the stand. Severus Snape, representative of the Wizengamot, who I've asked to produce a memory of the night in question. Claims of alcoholic consumption, on the night of such a high profile case, are quite concerning and have far reaching implications for the Auror Department."

There was quite a bit of grumbling going on, especially on James' side of the room, and Sirius leaned over and nudged her. "Snape was tried as a Death Eater, but he wriggled free somehow. Claiming he'd been tricked and controlled, I don’t know how he pulled it off," Sirius said, shaking his head at the new development.

"Just like Lucius Malfoy," Ginny added, feeling her blood boil. She wondered how many more were hiding in plain sight.

Sirius nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. "Snape was at Hogwarts with us. He was a miserable git then, and I can't imagine he's changed for the better. Definitely a Death Eater. There's no way James will stand for this."

And indeed, James had stood again and was looking irritable as he gestured to Crouch.

“Yes, Mr. Potter?”

“I’d like to request that this memory be reviewed for tampering…”

There was an exaggerated groan from the members of the Heritage Party, but Crouch raised his hand to silence them. “That is, of course, procedure, as I'll remind everyone in this chamber. I have already had the examiner verify the memory’s authenticity. Please, Mr. Bidgens, bring the pensieve forward.”

A small, balding wizard hurried forth, carefully placing a stone bowl atop a raised column. He took a vial from his coat and poured a smoky substance into the bowl, milky white tendrils swirling unnaturally to some unseen pattern. “I, Adelbert Bidgens of the Department of Mysteries, have verified, _in triplicate_ , that this is an unaltered memory. No tampering has taken place.” With that, he gave a curt nod to Crouch and shuffled back from where he’d come.

James withdrew his objection and Crouch made his way to the stone bowl, muttering a spell as the lighting in the chamber flickered and sputtered. Dipping his wand into the bowl, Crouch swirled the contents, casting another spell as he flung the memory into the air. The smoke spread out, multiplying into a cloud that billowed toward the ceiling, shifting in color until it was a deep black.

As the scene began to play out, Ginny recognized the dark corridors and terrifying wails of Azkaban. It was as if she was seeing her nightmare from another perspective, this one walking between the rows of cells, a short distance behind two dementors. The view of the memory swiveled, turning to stare at the cowering inmates as they moved down the long hallway.

Ginny could feel her palms sweating and her heart racing, but she tried to remind herself that _this_ was not her nightmare. She didn't feel the cold of the cell floor on her bare feet, or the aching fear and hate that twisted in her belly. Finally, the memory reached Voldemort’s cell, and Ginny found herself gripping the edge of her seat, her knuckles white with tension. The auror stepped forward, yelling for Quirrell to turn around so that Voldemort would face them. She knew it would happen soon.

“Are you alright?” Sirius whispered, his face close to hers in the darkness. Ginny nodded briefly, careful not to miss anything that was being said. The memory was the same; the auror was speaking the same words, reading aloud the sentence that had been passed for the dementor's kiss. The dementors flowed through the bars and lowered their hoods, their mouths rattling unnaturally as they sucked the air greedily, and descended upon Voldemort.

The screams were hideous, and Ginny saw many people rush to cover their ears. She couldn’t focus on the sound, though. What had just happened? The dream had been exactly the same as the memory, matched moment for moment, up until the kiss. Now she was watching the laughing auror -- Robards, she supposed -- as he cursed and told the person in the memory that they should grab a drink to celebrate. He crouched down and spat on the body that lay crumpled against the bars, laughing raucously again as he shook the door. It was all wrong...

“Wait, what was that?” asked Crouch, his voice breaking through the memory. The image froze, responding to his wand movements and cycling back to Robards as he crouched at the bars. Crouch drew his wand back, stretching the memory to focus on the auror’s robes. As Robards laughed and taunted, a thin arm snaked out behind him, slipping the wand from his pocket and retracting back into the cell. 

There was an audible gasp that reverberated through the chamber, and the voices soon rose and drowned out the Wizengamot members calling for quiet. Sirius was sitting low in his seat, his eyes sharp as he watched the crowd, but Ginny could hear the pace of his breathing pick up.

“Order, order!” shouted one of the Wizengamot finally, her voice magically magnified as she held her wand to her throat. It took a few moments for the crowd to settle back down, and by then another man in long black robes had walked out to join Crouch. Sirius tensed beside Ginny, his back shooting up ramrod straight as he saw the man enter.

“Snape,” he nearly spat, though the sound was lost in the reverberating noise of the chamber.

Ginny had seen this man before, in the dream; his long dark hair, slick and oily, the sour expression on his face. She remembered how he’d presented the wand to Voldemort, the way he’d reached through the bars and called _him_ ‘Lord’. Ginny bet that if he drew his sleeve back, he’d have the same tattoo, the snake and the skull.

“Can you, Severus Snape, confirm the authenticity of this memory?” asked Crouch.

“Yes.”

“And can you verify that the kiss was performed on the Dark Lord?”

“I can,” said Snape, his voice level and steady. “Following procedure, I documented that the sentence was carried out in accordance with the specifications of the Wizengamot.”

“And what of Auror Robards? Why didn’t he return to the Ministry with you?”

“Auror Robards,” Snape began, and Ginny could almost hear the sneer that spread across his mouth, “wished to celebrate the end of _He Who Must Not Be Named’s_ reign in muggle London. He insisted a number of times that I should accompany him for a drink, but I declined as I was still on official business, of course.”

"Can we really accept the testimony of a Death Eater when it comes to the case of Voldemort?" James interrupted, drawing shocked gasps from those in attendance, though Ginny wasn't sure if it was because he'd said the name or accused Snape. "Doesn't it seem convenient that Severus Snape was the witness for his master's kiss? And he happens to have an available memory now when the only other witness is missing?"

"Severus Snape was cleared of all charges related to the crimes of the Death Eaters, such slander will not be tolerated further," Crouch snapped, and James looked taken aback at being reprimanded. Even some of the members of the Wizengamot looked surprised.

"Hang on," whispered Sirius, his eyes piercing. "Since when has Crouch defended Snape? I went to the trial, Crouch was nearly as furious as I was when he walked. Crouch was the lead prosecutor, he argued for a life sentence in Azkaban for Snivelus there…"

"Are you implying that the Wizengamot has a vested interest in the Dark Lord's escape and return?" Crouch barked at James, his face livid. "That the courts would actually _facilitate…_ "

"Of course not. But if Snape was able to manipulate the memory or falsify it, he could easily be covering his master's tracks! We can't accept his testimony when…"

"You flatter me with your accusations, James," said Snape, smiling cruelly. "To think that I could fool an examiner from the Department of Mysteries? To assume that I've spent over a decade paying my penance for what was done against my will... working to put _You Know Who's_ followers behind bars, hoping I'd one day be chosen to witness his kiss so that I could sabotage it and falsify a memory, as you've so ridiculously claimed? True insanity."

Snape laughed, but there was no mirth in it. He paced slowly in front of the Wizengamot, but addressed every word to James. "How about I provide you with my memory of Auror Robards showing up nearly an hour late with muggle spirits on his breath? Or maybe the memory of him stumbling off the boat from Azkaban, only able to apparate after his _third_ try? Would those be enough?"

Snape turned back to the Wizengamot panel, bowing his head and giving it a slow shake. "I would be happy to provide them, of course. Anything to ensure that justice is served. But I doubt that would be enough for Mr. Potter. You see, distinguished members of the court, he's hated me since Hogwarts. He and his little friends would torture me at school, attack me and ridicule me. It's all some sick game to him." Here Snape turned back to James, leveling an accusing finger in his direction. "But this is the real world here, Mr. Potter; facts win out over fantasies and popularity. You can't just drum up ridiculous conspiracies to improve your election year, not when lives are on the line."

As the crowd shouted and the Heritage Party jeered, Ginny's mind was racing. Snape had been a Death Eater and Ginny was certain he was the man from her dreams now; she could even recognize it in his voice. She could tell from the way James and Sirius were reacting that things were _bad._ Where was Robards? And if it was actually Quirrell that escaped -- which she didn't believe for a second -- how did he do it?

And something else was nagging at her, something she didn't understand. “What’s Puddlemere?” Ginny finally asked, watching Sirius’s eyes. She was certain she’d even heard it in Snape’s version.

“They’re a quidditch team, why?”

“In my dream, Robards says he doesn’t want to miss Puddlemere. He wouldn’t go to a muggle pub if he wanted to listen to that, would he?”

Ginny's question was interrupted by the arrival of a messenger barging into the chamber, the doors clanging dramatically as they were flung wide. Crouch whispered with the messenger, an auror, for a moment, and it felt as if everyone in the room held their breath.

"I have just been informed that the body of Auror Robards was found last night by Brighton's muggle law enforcement. We don't have any details yet, but he does appear to have been in Brighton. Once the Auror Department obtains custody, they will perform an autopsy, but until then, I move to adjourn for the members of the Wizengamot to deliberate. Unless there are any more witnesses to call?"

Ginny watched as James held his head in his hands. He didn't move when Crouch slammed the gavel, nor when the chattering MPs began to file out. She looked up to find Sirius staring, his face tense with concern as he watched his friend. "What's going on? What's going to happen now?"

Sirius shook his head. "Honestly, I don't know." 

* * *

"Come now, Ginny, be a good sport and wake up," whispered a voice as someone poked at her.

She groaned, swiping her hand blindly in the dark to find another pillow and cover her head. It was the middle of the night, after all… Her knuckles collided with her headboard and made a soft _thunk,_ and Ginny grunted in frustration. 

"And be quiet," hissed Fred as his face leaned into view, a finger pressed to his lips.

The twins? What were they doing here? Ginny struggled to rub the sleep from her eyes, scooting to the edge of her bed. It was still dark outside, and she felt her stomach turn from being awake too early in the morning.

"We're bringing you back to Grimmauld, it's urgent. Sort of," George said.

"Urgent enough that we didn't want to wait!" Fred added, grinning.

Ginny forced herself out of bed and dressed hurriedly in the dark, her fingers still clumsy with sleep. What could be so urgent that they needed to sneak in and wake her in the dead of night? Why wouldn't they also wake up the rest of the family? She tried to ask them, but Fred shook his head, indicating silence.

Did this have something to do with the article? Or maybe Sirius had told them about what happened to her at the trial? Were the twins trying to cheer her up? They seemed to be excited about something… 

Stifling a yawn, Ginny followed the twins into James's office, a small fire crackling in the hearth. They each grabbed a pinch of powder and hopped into the flames, whirling as the floo sent them spinning through space and stumbling out of the fireplace at Grimmauld.

Ginny kept expecting Kreacher or Sirius to turn down a hallway and run into them, but instead it remained mostly silent, only the odd sounds of settling that she had grown used to hearing in the ancient house. The creak of the stairs, the wobbling of the windows that weren't _quite_ sealed anymore, the tick of the old grandfather clock down in the vestibule, and -- if she listened extra carefully -- the eerie hum of the wards and runes enveloping the building.

Once inside the twins' bedroom, they seemed to relax, and George set about opening his trunk. "Mind grabbing the key?" he asked Fred, tossing some robes and old textbooks aside.

"You already started packing?" Ginny asked, impressed.

"No, most of that was left from last year, or even earlier. Want to smell?" George tossed a pair of socks to Ginny who batted them away.

"Gross, is this what you brought me here for?"

"Of course not," laughed Fred, hoisting the key for her to see. "The books and clothes are just a cover."

The key looked like a small handle with a standard pin tumbler key at the end. Fred slid it carefully into the hidden keyhole, turning it perpendicular as a series of clicks sounded off in response. Hefting the key-handle, Fred lifted the bottom of the trunk which swung upright to reveal a small ladder leading downward into its depths.

"How…? Where does this go?" Ginny asked, looking around the edges of the trunk. She slid it to the side a few inches, but there was no trap door or any indication of a room below.

Fred and George smiled, their faces smug with delight and pride. "Some of the best work we've done. Took a good part of last year to get it to work, but it was worth it. Climb down, we've got more we'd like to show you."

Inside was a rather spare looking room, some shelves bolted to the wall and what looked like a few Hogwarts desks and even a lab table arranged in the center. "Welcome to our humble laboratory," George grinned, the twins presenting it with a flourish.

"How does this work?" Ginny walked the corners of the room, feeling the walls and trying to wrap her mind around it.

"Extension charm; bloody difficult magic, to be certain. Madam Pince said we spent more time in the library last year than we did the previous three combined," Fred joked. "Extension charms are regulated by the Ministry, though, so we keep it quiet."

"We didn't have to work from scratch either. The trunks are already a bit bigger on the inside when you buy them, so we managed to modify it to extend even further." George patted the walls lovingly, a smile playing across his lips.

"What's the lab for?" Ginny asked, surprised at what the twins had managed to create.

"I'm glad you asked," said Fred, grinning. "It's why we wanted to show you everything. We reckon we've pushed the limits of our pranking as individuals, and it's time to branch out. Allow others to help share the fruits of our genius."

"And relieve them of some galleons along the way," George added, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "We want to open a joke shop -- like Zonkos or Gambol and Japes but better. We just need some help testing prototypes. We do all the spellwork at Hogwarts since we're still underage, but these don't get picked up by the trace." He pointed to a few bins on the shelf, one with what looked like toffees and sweets, and another with about a dozen wands.

"Here," Fred said, tossing Ginny a wand from the bin. "Cast something for us, doesn't matter what."

Ginny cast a shield charm, nearly dropping the wand in surprise as it turned into a rubber haddock instead.

"Fake wands," the twins chorused.

"We're working on making it flop around and smell like a real fish, but after our first failed experiment stunk up the bedrooms for a week, we decided to keep it rubber. For now."

Ginny set the rubber fish down, which changed back to a wand after a few moments, though it did still appear to have scales.

"Ah, bullocks. The scales keep coming back, we'll need to work on the reverse transfiguration some more." George grabbed a sweet for himself, passing another to Fred. "For the candies, we've got two different ones we're working on, let us know which one you think is better."

After a few moments of chewing, there was a puff of acrid, purple smoke that began emanating from the twins' ears followed by a soft popping sound. Fred and George each changed forms, one becoming a large yellow canary, and the other becoming a spiky hedgehog, each human-sized.

Ginny gasped, circling the creatures to get a better look. She poked the canary -- Fred -- and felt the soft plush of feathers against her skin. After a minute, the canary's feathers began to molt as the hedgehog quills began dropping to the floor.

"So, which one is the winner?" asked George, brushing off some remaining fur and wincing as his thumb caught on a quill. "Canary Creams or Hedgehog Honeychews?" 

"The canary, for sure. I think that hedgehog is going to give me nightmares. It looks like someone tried to make a hedgehog but had only ever read about them... I think there is something wrong with the nose, or maybe the teeth?" Ginny pointed to the piles of feathers and quills that sat below them. "And I think I'd rather have a pile of feathers at the end of it, instead of quills."

"Ha! Result! I told you, George, our future customers want cute and funny, not _disturbing_."

George shrugged, "I don't know. Aren't horror and comedy just two sides of the same galleon? Maybe if I can get the face right..."

"Do you think I could use one of these to get out of Binns's class?" Ginny wondered aloud. "Could you imagine if he didn't notice?"

"He didn't seem to notice dying," joked Fred.

"Wait, I think you're onto something there. That's an untapped market, Fred. Imagine a snack that could get you out of class or work, and then you could stop it once you've skipped out."

"Snacks for skiving? Like vomiting or getting a nosebleed or hives or something? And maybe you could eat another piece to stop it..."

The twins quickly jumped back to work, sketching out ideas in their notepads and muttering to each other about curses and counter curses, and certain extracts that they could get in Hogsmeade or would need to bribe someone to buy from Knockturn Alley.

After a little while, Ginny began to worry that they had somehow managed to forget that she was still there, and cleared her throat. "How do these work? Is it animagus magic, like Sirius?" Ginny picked up one of the creams, sniffing it experimentally. It reminded her of a lemon custard.

"It _is_ transfiguration, but nowhere near as difficult as becoming an animagus. These spells took us some time to get right, but most of that was spent on figuring out the spell delivery in edible form. Becoming an animagus takes years of study, but once you become one, you can change whenever you want and for as long as you want."

Sirius must have spent years studying to become an animagus; he and James would have had to start at an early age to finish when they were still at school. And here were Fred and George, inventing their own bits of magic, spending all of this time working toward their goal. Everyone seemed to think that they just liked blowing things up, but they've had a purpose all along.

What was Ginny's goal, her purpose? She felt like was drowning in everyone else's expectations; tired of all the fame and prying questions, tired of all the attacks and judgment and everyone constantly, _constantly_ watching her.

"You alright, Ginny?"

"I'm sorry, just… really tired."

Fred handed Ginny a large piece of folded parchment. "This, dear sister, is the real reason we wanted to see you. Now that we're focusing on our projects..."

"...and products!" George chimed in.

"We won't have a real need for the map anymore. And as far as we know, you're the only person to find a secret passage that even the Marauders didn't know about; the Chamber of Secrets."

"Is this… Is this what I think it is?" Ginny ran her fingers carefully over the old parchment, nearly feeling the thrum of the magic below the surface. She tried to remember how the twins had made it come alive with the spiderweb of lines and labels that mapped out Hogwarts.

"The Marauders' Map," the twins confirmed, their grins nearly a mirror image of each other.

"Think of it as a ceremonial passing of the torch," explained Fred. "But it also comes with responsibilities."

"We've been working on these ideas for a few years now, and we think it's time to take our research to the next step. We need test subjects."

"Oh," Ginny said, her hand hesitantly grasping the map. She wanted it, obviously, but she wasn't sure she was willing to be a guinea pig for the twins' wild antics.

"That's where you -- and the map -- come in," George said. "We have a list of certain potential test subjects that we think could do with a good pranking, but if they see us anywhere nearby, we won't be able to get close enough to slip them one of our products."

"You see, it's very important to have an unaware test subject," Fred explained, gesturing excitedly with his hands. "We can't go and make our own little test group and manage to trick them all into eating a Canary Cream or using a fake wand, one right after another. For our data to be pure, they need to be unaware so that we can properly gauge their reaction. Genius requires context."

"Also, we'd just like to see some of them get pranked," added George, grinning mischievously. "Especially if they can't pin it back to us. Detentions would sorely cut into our research hours, and we'd like to have some more prototypes ready before the weekend Hogsmeade visits start."

"So you're in?" Fred asked, and George nodded slowly as if to convince her.

"Of course," Ginny answered, feeling a surge of warmth as she held the map. "I'm a Weasley, aren't I?"

* * *

A few minutes later, Ginny stumbled out of the grate, nearly bashing her knee into James's desk. She checked the map, but it looked the same as ever. Good. She couldn't believe her luck, especially considering how poorly everything seemed to be going lately.

"What are you doing in my dad's office?" Harry asked, his voice groggy and confused. He stood sleepily in his pyjamas, his mouth frozen wide in a yawn as he wiped at his glasses. "Is he still in there? Did you have to floo for the Wizengamot thing?"

"Oh...no, I was just… well the twins wanted to show…" she held up the parchment, realizing how ridiculous it looked to be holding a blank paper while covered in soot. Ginny shook her head, she wasn't making any sense. "Oh, just come on and I'll tell you about it."

Once her door was closed, Ginny wiped her face off with a towel, and Harry sat on the edge of her bed, watching her expectantly. She laid the map out between then, unfolding it partway to show how large it would become.

"Well, this parchment is a map -- a _magical_ map -- that shows every hallway and classroom and secret passage in Hogwarts. It even shows little dots with each person's name next to it, exactly where they really are. You have to say an incantation with your wand to make it work, so we can't do it now, but it's really only useful at school anyway."

Harry looked at her skeptically, _"Everyone?_ Even Dumbledore?"

"Even Mrs. Norris," Ginny said, though she wasn't _entirely_ sure that was true.

"Where did you get it?"

She explained about the task Fred and George had given her, and about their prototypes and plans to one day open a joke shop. "Plus, I was the one who helped them steal it back from Filch. That's what got me detention cleaning up their dung bombs in the trophy room."

"I thought your detention was for punching Malfoy?"

"No, McGonagall docked a load of points but didn't give me a detention for that, I think because Malfoy called me a blood traitor."

"He deserved it." Harry smiled and shook his head. "You rather made up for the points, in the end."

Ginny felt herself blush a little. Everything had been going so smoothly, so _easily_ , but the way he'd smiled just now… her mind raced to find the hidden meanings to interpret. Did he like her? Really _like_ her? Or was that just what she wanted to think? Was she making it weird? Why couldn't she think of something to say?

"You should be careful about that map, though. If Fred and George made it, it probably has some sort of trap to make your hands grow big or sprout grass or lots of hair, trust me. You're lucky you didn't have to grow up with their pranks…" Harry stopped, and his cheeks reddened. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say…"

"It's fine, really, it's okay." Ginny smiled, but her mind was elsewhere now. She thought about what happened to the Sheltons -- what _might've_ happened -- and wondered who else knew. Did the Potters know about the memory charm? How much more of her life was a lie? How many more secrets were there?

"How are you feeling after all of the court stuff? Dad said that Malfoy really laid it on…"

"Oh, he did?" Ginny wondered if that meant James thought she was weak, that she couldn't handle herself. "Well, I'm doing... I'm..."

She realized that she wasn't sure how she was doing. She was nervous about what would happen at Hogwarts now that everyone had seen the article. She was nervous about being in Diagon Alley with mobs of people who would recognize her, nervous about getting James in trouble at work. Worried about Voldemort escaping Azkaban and people covering it up.

"Doing your best?" Harry asked, looking at his hands. "I think I understand. That's how it felt for me after the Chamber."

Ginny nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets as she tried to regain control over her emotions. She felt a small object inside and pulled it out, remembering now that she'd been holding one of the Canary Creams when the twins had given her the map.

"Fred and George didn't make the map, by the way, they stole it from Filch in their first year. But their pranks are quite impressive." Ginny smiled, pulling the sweet from her pocket and popping it into her mouth. "Mmm, custard."

Harry nearly fell off the bed when Ginny unexpectedly turned into a giant canary, and he stared at her in disbelief. Cleo looked shocked by Ginny's change in appearance as well, momentarily batting at her before scampering behind Ginny's desk. Once the spell had worn off, Ginny shook herself to brush all the feathers to the floor. "Do you reckon that will help me get into Hogwarts unnoticed?"

"Might do," laughed Harry, picking another feather from her hair. Ginny felt the warmth rise in her cheeks again. "Anyway, goodnight, Ginny."

"Goodnight, Harry," she whispered. And in that moment, she believed that this year would be different. Better even, despite Rita Skeeter and Lucius Malfoy and the Heritage Party. Despite Voldemort.

Cleo hopped onto the bed, a yellow feather still clutched in her mouth, and curled against Ginny as she laid down. Her soft purring rumbled pleasantly against Ginny's fingers as she stroked Cleo's fur, thinking that she'd trust Cleo's instincts this year. No more mistakes, and no more diaries.

This year, she would lay the traps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did you guys like the article? Was it as bad for Ginny as you expected?
> 
> And there's certainly some funny business going on at the Wizengamot...


	4. Wicked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reader can have a little Hinny, as a treat...

##  **Wicked**

_Looking for a savior_

_Looking for a sign_

_Walk between the raindrop_

_Til the floodgates open wide_

_Looking for an Angel_

_Or a hand from up on high_

_Sun rose on the hillside_

_Looked like hell fire in the sky_

_You better run away_

_(Oh)_

_Whoa_

_Wicked this way comes_

  * _GRiZ & Eric Krasno, 2016_



* * *

Ginny sat at the table, ready to eat her bowl of porridge and fresh strawberries as the sunlight filtered in from outside, casting long shadows across the kitchen. She poured a little milk over top her porridge, adding brown sugar and swirling it together slowly as she listened to James tell Lily how his Azkaban inquiry had ended.

“The Wizengamot ruled that _You Know Who…_ ” James paused, glancing at Ginny, “that _Voldemort’s_ case is closed, barring substantial evidence to the contrary. Fudge is going to announce a manhunt for Quirrell, along with a guard of dementors for Hogwarts in case he tries to infiltrate the school again, but that's it.”

"Dementors at Hogwarts?" Lily asked, surprised. "How did that make it through Parliament?"

Ginny shivered. The thought of seeing dementors around school all year, of feeling like she had outside Hagrid’s hut… it was terrifying. She didn’t believe for a second that her dream was wrong, not now. How would dementors help stop Voldemort? They had been working _with_ him in her dream and helped him escape.

“I argued against it, but the party is firmly behind Fudge now, and he _'doesn't want to cause a panic over nothing'_. I’ll probably lose the seat in the next election at this rate," James continued, stirring his tea with a sour look on his face. "I'm going to talk to Sirius tomorrow. I want to get started on rebuilding the Order. After the Wizengamot, I'm convinced we’re already behind, and I don’t like being on my back foot. Maybe I should just resign and start full time now.”

James laughed to himself and shook his head in disbelief, scratching the back of his neck. Lily gave him a sympathetic smile and came over to kiss the top of his head. “Is there anyone else that shares your suspicions? Anyone you can work with?”

“I don’t know, after Robards… people don’t want to talk about it. And I don't blame them -- that whole trial felt rehearsed. Theatrical, even. The way Crouch presented the evidence and _defended_ Snape, the way the auror rushed in at the end and threw the doors open -- something isn't right."

Ginny remembered what Sirius had said about Snape during the inquiry, how he was just another Death Eater that had managed to escape justice because he knew the right people. And she was certain that he was the man from her dream, the one with Voldemort's symbol tattooed on his arm.

"And now I can’t find anyone to get me the autopsy report for Robards," James continued. "It’s like no one is even looking anymore, Fudge is just burying it. But I did hear from the Muggle Relations Liaison that no wand was found on Robards by muggle law enforcement. That seems odd, doesn’t it?”

“Do you think somebody took it?” Lily asked.

“Snape’s _‘memory’_ showed Quirrell stealing it after the kiss was performed. But then Robards doesn’t report it? He just goes on vacation and never notices? It doesn’t make any sense. I’m going to ask Ollivander when I take Ron over there today, maybe Robards replaced his wand. I doubt it, but it doesn’t hurt to check. What really bothers me is that if Ginny's nightmare is correct, then whoever confirmed the kiss can't be Robards. I think they've been plotting this for a while, and I'm afraid this is just the beginning.”

Ginny sat in silence, ruminating on everything she'd heard until Harry and Ron joined them, joking loudly as they ate their breakfast. The noise and laughter helped Ginny relax a little and feel better about how _intense_ everything seemed.

She couldn’t wait to get back to school and see her friends, learn magic, play quidditch… there was so much to look forward to. She wanted to help James find the truth, but she didn't know what else she could do to help. She was only twelve after all, maybe it was time she let the adults worry about everything -- at least for a little while.

But thoughts of Tom and the diary were always in the back of her mind; how had he been able to control her and Harry? How had he placed a memory of himself in a book, and a memory with real power, no less. Had Tom created more, just waiting to take control of whoever stumbled upon them? She needed to learn how to fight magic like that, she needed to understand it.

Dumbledore might know more about it, but he probably wouldn't tell her anything. He hadn't told her about the Sheltons' murder, hadn't told her the truth about her parents for eleven years. 

Maybe Slughorn could help; he'd known Tom Riddle as a student, too. But was she ready to tell him about everything with the diary? Could she trust him?

“Ollivander is going to be furious with me, I just know it,” Ron admitted, stoically shoving spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth as he spoke in between bites. “I hope I don’t have to try too many wands, the first time took ages. _Oh, that one certainly won't do, Mr. Weasley...”_ he mimicked as Harry laughed.

“I’ll save you the trouble, it’ll be driftwood, four inches, with a unicorn hair core for sure,” said Harry, giving Ginny a wink.

“It better not, I want something powerful, like dragon heartstring. Or maybe something with manticore.”

“What, the big unicorn horn isn’t manly enough for you?” Ginny teased. “Why bother with a wand at all? Better carry around something like an acromantula leg instead.”

“No, he’s got a point, Ginny,” James chuckled. “A wizard's wand core is very important. All self-respecting manly wizards use centaur chest hair for their wand cores. I think Dumbledore might’ve said that one. He probably plucked his own, too, by the light of a full moon.”

They all laughed, and Ginny imagined what it would have been like if she had asked Firenze for a chest hair to use as a wand core, and then she couldn’t stop smiling. Lily slid behind her and tickled her with little pinches, and Ginny howled with laughter. 

Once she’d calmed down she felt red-faced but more relaxed than she had for a while. She had people who cared about her and would help her. She could get through this. It was like Dumbledore had said; help will come to those who need it, all she had to do was ask.

It reminded Ginny of the Chamber and Fawkes’s feather, currently stuffed in her Hogwarts trunk. It would be perfect! She dropped her spoon and set off to her room at a run. She was surprised she hadn't thought of it before; Lockhart broke Ron's wand in the Chamber, and then Fawkes gave her one of his feathers, the same wand core as her own.

Ginny shoved aside some of her quidditch gear and old Chocolate Frog cards, pulling her old transfiguration book from the bottom of the chest. The feather was pressed inside it, still a brilliant red against the creamy white of the pages. She touched it lightly, remembering how Fawkes had fought by her side against the basilisk, and how he had saved Harry with his healing tears.

“That’s beautiful,” said Lily, once Ginny had brought it downstairs. She looked at it carefully as Ron held it aloft. “Where did you get that?”

“It’s from Fawkes, Dumbledore’s phoenix. He left it in the Chamber when he went to get help.”

“Is it really?” Ron was astounded, turning the feather over and over in his hand. “Dumbeldore’s phoenix, that _has_ to be lucky. There can’t be too many wands like that.”

"There aren’t many, but I've got one of them.” Ginny didn’t tell him who the other wand belonged to, though she supposed that Ollivander might. 

“Wicked,” Ron grinned. “Matching Weasley wands, I like the sound of that. Thanks, Ginny.”

“For the feather, or for saving you from Ollivander?”

“Definitely both.”

* * *

Harry edged the door closed, listening carefully at the keyhole for a moment before he sat on the bed across from Ginny. They were in the top room of the Leaky Cauldron, and tomorrow the Potters would be taking them to Kings Cross Station to head back to Hogwarts.

This year, the shopping had been arranged ahead of time, and all their books and supplies had been delivered to their rooms. They'd arrived on the muggle side of London, too, quickly slipping through the dining room as they followed Tom the barman upstairs.

Normally, Ginny would have been disappointed to have missed an opportunity to see Diagon Alley, but the idea of facing the public after Rita's article still filled her with dread. That hadn't stopped Ron and Harry from wanting to go out, though. They'd gotten very secretive all of a sudden, whispering quietly when the adults weren't paying attention as they ate dinner in Tom's private room in the back.

"Are you and Ron sneaking out tonight?" Ginny asked, torn between wanting to avoid the crowds and not wanting to miss out.

Harry looked a little surprised. "Yes, but I wanted to talk to you about something else first."

"Oh, okay." Ginny tried to keep the disappointment from her voice, but she had hoped that they considered her one of _them_ now. She wanted to be included in their adventures; they'd spent all summer together, after all.

Would they just drift back to how they'd been at school last year? After everything they had been through? Maybe it wasn't fair for her to expect anything, but she had all the same.

"I didn't really get you anything for your birthday," Harry started, his hands fumbling with a small pouch. There was a metal clasp on the front, and he flipped it open and closed as he spoke. "But I wanted to do something special, after… well, everything."

"But, you already got me a new polish kit for my broom."

"I know, but that was mostly Ron's idea anyway. This one is from me specifically. Our family has had this cloak for ages and ages," he said, pulling out a strange, silvery material. "At least since my great grandfather, and maybe before that too."

"What is it?" Ginny asked in little more than a whisper. It felt like the sort of thing to whisper about, a secret shared in the dark of night. Harry shook the strange cloak and the fabric rippled like water in his hands.

Harry held it in front of himself and whirled it around his back, disappearing from view as the cloak settled around his shoulders. "It's a cloak of invisibility, see?"

Ginny immediately reached out her hand to where he'd been, doing her best to stifle the sound of surprise that escaped her lips. She was met by the solid feel of Harry's shoulder, the cloak itself slipping between her fingers like liquid.

"Here, you try."

Harry reappeared into view, swinging the folds of the cloak around Ginny. She took the clasp from his hands, shivering slightly as their fingers brushed, and turned to look at herself in the mirror. Beside her, Harry stood alone, grinning. "It's incredible, I've never seen anything like it."

"I want you to keep it. At least until they've caught _You Know Who_."

"I can't keep it, it's yours -- it has been in your family for generations! Harry, wouldn't your dad..."

"Just for now, to keep you safe. He passed it on to me, so the way I see it, it's mine to do with as I please."

"I don't know, what if I lost it or ruined it?"

Harry shrugged, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. "Better than what I've done with it so far. We had plenty of fun with it during first year, but last year… I was only able to get away with everything because no one could see me when I was doing things for Tom. You saved my life, maybe the cloak can save you. Now that _You Know Who_ is really out, you'll need it more than anyone."

Ginny still hesitated. It seemed far too extravagant, even if she was only holding onto it for a little while. Was she supposed to refuse it? Or was that even more rude?

"Look," Harry said, a slight flush spreading to his cheeks. "If _he_ came to Hogwarts and I kept the cloak, if something happened to you… I couldn't forgive myself."

Ginny held the cloak in her hands, _Harry's_ cloak _,_ and searched for something to say. How could she explain how much it meant to her, that he thought of her and cared for her? She looked at his easy smile, the way his eyes watched her from behind his glasses. Maybe she didn't need to say anything.

She could hug him, that wouldn't be strange, would it? She could kiss him on the cheek, maybe, but she hadn't really done that before. That's probably what Lily would do, in the same situation. Ginny steeled her nerves and took a step toward him.

"Oi!" came a sharp hiss at the door. Ron inched the door open and slid his head in. "You two ready? Coast is clear, let's go!"

"Go where?" Ginny asked, clutching the bundle of fabric to her chest, her heart fluttering at how close she had been too kissing Harry on the cheek. What was she thinking? If Ron hadn't come in, surely she would have embarrassed herself just now. And she still had a ridiculous urge to see if the cloak smelled like Harry, but she shoved it down, locking the feelings away until she could think about them properly. Or never.

"Wherever we want!" Ron said. "That cloak can get us anywhere, as long as we're quick about it. Come on!"

Outside in Diagon Alley, the three of them huddled together, taking care to stay to the sides of the streets and avoid anyone who wandered too close. Harry and Ron had given her a quick course in using the cloak; it didn't keep them from making sounds or bumping into things, and if they weren't careful, their feet would sometimes peek out from below.

They enjoyed wandering the increasingly empty streets, the shop windows lit by flickering street lamps. Quality Quidditch Supplies had a new broom on display, named _The Firebolt_ , that was the most beautiful piece of equipment Ginny had ever seen. The handle looked smooth and aerodynamic, polished to a bright sheen. The broomtail curved majestically, as if the broom itself was confident in its own perfection.

"I read that they handpick every single twig so it's just right, and all the detailing is done by goblins," Ron whispered, his voice tinged with awe as his fingers traced the glass.

It didn't take long for them to lose interest in window shopping -- they couldn't touch anything, after all -- and sneaking off to explore Knockturn Alley was easily the most enticing option for three invisible children.

"Mom would be furious to know we've snuck down here," whispered Harry, the excitement clear in his voice. "But I bet dad and Sirius used to do it all the time."

Ron and Harry shared a conspiratorial look under the cloak, clearly of the opinion that if Sirius and James would do it, it was worth doing. Ginny remembered when she'd come here exactly a year before, trailing along Hagrid's wake as he took her to meet Cleo.

Knockturn Alley had its seedy elements, of course, but Hagrid felt accepted here, so Ginny knew it couldn't be all bad. She supposed there was a difference between disagreeing with the Ministry and following Voldemort. Traces of dark magic were still visible in the shop windows and dimly lit displays -- or what Ginny thought _must_ be dark magic -- but at least there wasn't the pretentious snobbery of Lucius Malfoy and the Heritage Party.

_Speaking of which..._

"Shhh..." Ginny nudged Harry and Ron, pointing down the passageway that led to Knockturn Alley. "Look, it's Lucius Malfoy, isn't it? The one with that obnoxious robe and the cane?"

"That's him, alright. Only someone like that could make someone like Draco."

"I wish we could do magic right now, I'd hit him with a bat bogey hex from nowhere," Ginny grumbled, wondering if she could chance tossing some gravel at him. Or maybe just kick his shins and run...

"Do you think we could sneak up on him and put something in his hair? Like a beetle maybe?"

"It would be hard with all three of us, but maybe if two of us hid in that alley while the other…"

They argued about this for a short while, their plans becoming more and more elaborate until they realized that they didn't have any beetles or fizzing whiz-bangs or pixies to stuff in his hair -- or anywhere else. All the while he was just standing there, scowling down the street as he primly adjusted his robes for the hundredth time.

"What do you think he's up to?" Harry asked. "He keeps checking the time and looking down that empty alley. Do you think we should wait to see where he goes?"

"Let's see if we can get closer, I want to know what he's looking at."

As they neared the alleyway, careful to keep their steps silent, there was a loud crack and brief flash of light. Malfoy looked at his watch again and shook his head angrily, tapping his cane on the cobblestones.

"You were meant to arrive at twelve o'clock. It's nearly twelve fifteen," Malfoy ground out, his canines flashing in the flickering light of the streetlamp.

A man walked out of the alley, dusting his coat off as he stowed his wand in his trousers. "Didn't know we had a dinner reservation, I'd have brought me dress robes. Settle down now, you'll see it was worth the wait. I managed to…"

"Not here!" Malfoy hissed, his eyes darting around the storefronts. Ginny held her breath, anxiously expecting him to catch sight of them, but his gaze didn't linger. "I pay you for your discretion, not to reveal sensitive information in the middle of the street…"

"Hey, I'm not the one waiting around outside. Why didn't you head upstairs? I told Gremelda that you were coming, she'd have seated you in the back without any fuss, thank you very much. And I was going to say that I managed to get something _worth the wait_ , that's all." The man shook his head and gestured for Lucius to follow him to the White Wyvern, the tavern across the street.

Ginny, Harry, and Ron crept close, thankful that the weather was warm and the tavern had left their door wide open. They followed behind Malfoy and the other wizard as he climbed the stairs, weaving their way past the bar and up toward the private rooms, the sounds of drunken revelry slowing dying away as they moved further from the main room.

It was getting difficult to navigate the stairs together, wedged between the dark wooden panels. Ginny was sure that their feet were showing, but thankfully neither of the men had turned to look. Finally they reached a narrow hallway, and Malfoy and the other man went through the second door on the right, closing it behind them.

"Bollucks," whispered Ron. "What do we do now?"

They looked at each other under the cloak, none of them wanting to admit it, but it was time to go home. "Probably best to get out while we can," Ginny offered, though she wished there was something she could do to hear what they were saying. Malfoy had seemed so nervous that it _had_ to be important.

They set about turning around in the confined space before they heard footsteps from below as someone started to make their way upstairs.

"Into the other room!" Harry hissed, jabbing his finger toward an open door.

They quickly scrambled into the empty room, slipping under the long booth seating that shared a wall with Malfoy's room. Thankfully, the footsteps made their way past the open door and they heard a muffled knock as it reverberated through the wood.

"Can I get you anything to drink? The kitchen is closing soon, if you'd like something to eat, we've got…"

Ginny pricked her ears at the sound of the voice, and she realized that she could hear what was happening in Malfoy's room through a small heating grate near the floorboards. It was far enough under the seats that it wouldn't be heard by someone sitting above, especially over a normal conversation. She jabbed her finger at the grate and signaled for the boys to keep quiet.

"Alright, to business," the other man said once the door had closed. "Here are the autopsy reports you asked about. Swapped a new set in their place to throw them off the scent."

"I wanted these destroyed. If they're switched, it will be suspicious! What about the person who performed the autopsy? If you've botched this -- you have no idea how important..."

Malfoy sounded livid. Ginny wondered what they were talking about, but it _definitely_ sounded like they were up to something. Could it be about that auror, Robards, from the Wizengamot inquiry?

"Oi, ease off. _I've got it handled._ There was only one wizard who performed the autopsy, and he didn't talk to no one before I got to him." The man spoke in a calm voice, emphasizing his precautions. "I've a deft hand with memory charms, by the time he came 'round he was running to quarantine the body."

"Quarantine…?"

The other man chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. "One of me best ideas yet! Slipped them an autopsy report alleging he died of dragon pox. 'Immediate quarantine and inspection of areas which the deceased frequented for the month prior for signs of dragon pox. Dispose of body immediately.' How's that for you?"

"So his office will be under quarantine?"

"It already _is_ under quarantine, Ministry protocol. Everything in there will be untouchable for at least a week, maybe two. Should slow down the Aurors a bit."

"And the body?"

"Saw it levitated into the incinerator myself."

"That's… that's…" Lucius's voice had taken on an entirely different tone. "This is very good news. I admit, I never thought we could do more than delay the inquiry..."

Lucius seemed to stop himself, as if he thought he'd said too much, but Ginny was certain it was Auror Robards they were talking about. She remembered what James had said about the ruling; if the body was destroyed and the autopsy was switched, then the case was closed… 

"Now look, I'm going to level with you. When I saw the body, I knew who it was and I saw what he looked like. I've seen… my brother after the war… well, I looked at the report and this guy? He got the kiss. I read the papers, and I can put the two together. It's happening, isn't it? He's out."

There was a long pause, and Ginny wished she could be in the room to see Malfoy's face. She knew it was true, had _known_ it was true, but she needed to hear it confirmed, needed him to say it out loud. She could tell Ron and Harry were just as surprised, no one moving for fear of missing a single word.

"If you think you can weasel more money from me with blackmail…"

"I don't care about the money. I want in. I want _him_ to know what I've done, what I _will_ do." There was a long pause, and Ginny strained to hear, worried that they'd lowered their voices even further. "After the war, with Gaius -- my brother -- on trial and given the kiss… It just wasn't the same. They started to treat me like I was low class. All the best jobs started getting taken by mudbloods. Work that used to be _mine_ , should still be _mine_ . But now all these blood traitors talk about 'equity in employment' and filling quotas. I want what you want. I want things back the way they _should_ be. I want what I deserve."

Ginny could feel the anger coursing through her veins. She wished she could hex both of them, or at least record what they were saying so she could play it for James…

"Anyway, that's what it's going to take for me to pull off your other job, with the prophecy. I want in, it's too much risk for just the money."

Malfoy hissed, "What, you'd like me to send the _Dark Lord_ an owl?"

"You don't want me on the job? Fine, but I think we both know you won't find anyone else to do it. I need time, and the proper manpower, but you'll get what you want."

"How long?"

"Who knows? Six months, a year, two years? We need to go deep, the access needs to be as legitimate as possible, there's no telling…"

The sounds from downstairs were getting louder, and Ron was tapping hurriedly on Ginny's shoulder. She hated to admit it, but he was right, it was time to go.

They managed to get to their feet without making any noise, and checked to make sure they were hidden under the cloak. It was a tight fit with three of them, and Ginny felt her face grow warm at how it felt to lean against Harry's side.

They turned out the door, only to see a wizard making his shaky way upstairs, his feet stumbling as he struggled with the steps.

"You can't go up there! That's private, that is!" The barmaid shouted from downstairs, her angry steps echoing as she followed after him.

"It's empty, innit?" he slurred, stepping closer to the door as Ginny and the two boys tried to back away. "Come on, I'll buy you a drink, and you can come join me…" He laughed raucously at her disgusted expression, pounding loudly on the doorframe. "Wouldn't want you anyway, now would I? You nasty half-"

"These are private rooms. Leave," said Lucius Malfoy, opening the door to the hallway and looking furious. "Or I will make your every moment a living hell. And you, keep the riff-raff out of my presence. Or else what am I paying you for?" he nearly spat at the barmaid.

"You'll do my what now?" shouted the drunk, stepping aggressively toward Malfoy as he reached for his wand. "Say it to my face you poncy git!"

Things quickly escalated from there, and the trio took the opportunity to make a run for it. Ginny felt her shoulder bump into the barmaid, sending her sprawling against the wall, shouting _'I've just been cursed in me own bar!'_

From there, the upper floor erupted into a burst of spells, and it was a near miss that they were able to slip down the stairwell and out the door before the rest of the tavern charged upstairs to watch the fight.

The trip back to the Leaky Cauldron went much more quickly than she expected. Ron and Harry were mostly silent, but for the occasional observation of _'knew he was an evil git'_ , or _'but what do you think they're up to?'_. Tom the barman had a few stern words with them when they tried to sneak in the back, but he promised not to tell James and Lily as long as they went straight to bed and didn't wake anyone. He walked them up the stairs himself and made sure they went straight to their rooms, though Ginny was frustrated she wouldn't get to whisper to Harry and Ron.

She should tell James about this, but everything had gone all upside down with the dream and the trial… wouldn't it just cause more problems?

She would be boarding the Hogwarts Express tomorrow, and be dining in the Great Hall by tomorrow night; she could wait and talk to Dumbledore, couldn't she? He might know more about this prophecy that had set the course of her entire life. In fact, she was sure he _did_ know.

The question was how much he would be willing to tell her.

* * *

Ginny tossed in her sleep, the whispers of Lucius Malfoy and his co-conspirator sending her mind racing, her thoughts taking shape into plots of stolen prophecies and murder. Exhaustion battled with her imagination, and soon enough exhaustion won out, the thick tendrils of sleep pulled her under.

_The darkness of the room was marred by a fire crackling in the hearth, a lone candle burning atop the table to her right. Her senses felt dull, as if reaching through cobwebs and shadows, the cold reality of this familiar strangeness settling around her..._

It was another dream -- a Tom dream -- she was sure of it.

A man shuffled into view, his expression meek and slimy, like the vermin he was… Ginny hated him -- or rather -- felt that Tom hated him. But he had his uses. "M'lord," he muttered, his eyes yearning to stare at the grotesque form.

Ginny could tell what he wanted. She could easily slip into his mind and delight in the fear and dread he felt, read his fascination in the quickness of his breath… "Wormtail… you're late." The voice was not Ginny's, but she felt the satisfaction of watching him squirm before her all the same.

"My apologies, Dark Lord, I was..."

"Spare me your mewling," she spat gesturing to the floor before her. The man knelt and bent his head, and Ginny felt pleasure at the many thoughts of torture that flickered through her mind. What to do? What to satisfy, a little taste… She raised her wand.

When she was through, Ginny settled back into the chair, ecstasy coursing through her veins even as her own stomach roiled with nausea, connected but elsewhere, far away.

"My Lord Voldemort," the man managed to say to her, his body trembling in its weakness. "I… I… I promise you… I won't fail you. I can infiltrate their ranks, make them trust me, I promise you. Give me the honor to serve you…"

He had his uses, she thought again with bubbling disdain, but she wouldn't entrust him with any matter of importance. Still, she wasn't ready to move directly, if he were on the inside…

"You will watch and send word to me… The girl must die, but at the time of my choosing… You will take her for me…Wormtail… alive."

"Of course, you will not be disappointed!"

"How unlikely…" she said, enjoying the way the man's face drained of color and his fingers began to shake. "You will await my signal. It is already in motion…" She slid the sleeve above her elbow, angered by the cursed flesh she was still forced to wear. She could rebuild her own, in time, but there was something preventing it that didn't bear understanding. What had that Prewett woman done? The one who'd dare defy the Dark Lord? She pressed the point of her thumb to the skull outlined in dark, swirling ink on her forearm.

The lines leapt to life, arcing in the familiar pattern of snake and skull. "Ah...yes, the signal, of course..." 

The man groveled before her, trying to hide his pain, but she could read his thoughts as easily as her own. She laughed to herself, drinking in his fear to quench an endless thirst.

There was a hint of surprise that she felt at the edge of her senses. Nagini had returned and seen something.

_‘There is a muggle, on the stairs. The gardener. Saw the firelight.’_

_‘Then it is time… You've done well, Nagini… You deserve this reward, for your service…’_ And to her grovelling servant, Ginny said, "Go and welcome our guest standing outside the door… He'll be needed soon..."

_‘I'm not sure, it feels wrong,’_ Nagini hissed, her coils undulating in waves. _‘Why must this be done? I am already a maledictus, is this cage not enough?’_

_‘Don't you see, Nagini… This is why I ask this of you… This is why I offer a part of myself… Do you think that I would offer this to anyone? To this whimpering fool?’_ Ginny pointed at her servant, feeling the edges of what passed for her lips curl in amusement as the man writhed in renewed agony. The muggle watched in horror, looking as if he might die on the spot, and she wondered if she should paralyze him to prevent it from happening, but no, it wouldn't be long…

_‘It's an honor, certainly, but…’_

_‘Nagini… I am giving you more than just a sliver of my soul… I am giving you my thoughts and senses… my experiences and memories… We will be as one… I cannot make you human again, Nagini… But I can give you this…_

She could force it upon Nagini, of course, but the magic seemed to prefer consent. The bond was stronger this way, but once the bond was complete, consent would no longer matter. Nagini would be fully hers...

_‘I trust you, Tom.’_

Somewhere, in the back of Ginny's mind, she wanted to scream and warn Nagini, that whatever Voldemort wanted was a trick. But she was just a silent passenger, delighting in the cruel manipulation that unfolded before her. The ritual had been prepared, the sacrifice was here, and the vessel was willing… a living vessel… No wizard alive or dead could claim such a feat, and she was yet confined to this crumpled ruin of a body…

"Let us begin..." she said, drawing her wand from her robes, and oh how it felt to be reunited with this wand...Thirteen and one half inches… yew… phoenix feather core… 

She leveled the wand at the muggle, sacrificing his worthless life in a flash of brilliant, beautiful green…

* * *

Ginny woke with a start, a scream trying to work its way out of her mouth, but she was too busy gasping for breath to manage both. She clenched her forehead, her scar burning in brilliant pain. She'd just been somewhere… been someone…

The voice had called her Lord Voldemort.

He'd been plotting something with that other man, and he'd killed someone? And talked to the snake?

_'Nagini…'_ Ginny remembered with a burst of inspiration. Tom had wanted the snake to do something, and Nagini had trusted him? But there was something else about a plot… or a spy…

Ginny wrote down what she could remember, but it was slipping away so quickly that she knew she was missing something. If it was anything like the first nightmare, she'd be seeing it again, she supposed.

As she finally lay back in bed, she wondered how she was seeing through Tom's eyes in her dreams. It had to be something about the diary, maybe the connection went both ways? Would Harry start having dreams now, too?

She yawned as she turned the light off, her body feeling heavy with fatigue, and wished for dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plots on plots on plots... 
> 
> And I hope you enjoyed that second scene in particular, it was a lot of fun to write and some refreshing Hinny feels for me!


	5. Loud Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is staying safe in quarantine! I've been in a bit of a funk with writing but finally got it flowing again, here's Chapter 5!

##  **Loud Magic**

_I'm screaming out loud_

_I'm reaching for the clouds_

_Will they listen to me now_

_I know that you felt something_

_I know that you want to believe_

_Someone broke your trust_

_Dragging you right through the mud_

  * _Foreign Air, 2018_



* * *

Ginny held her breath as she approached Platform 9 ¾ at a dead sprint, the wheels of her trolley rattling madly across the floor of Kings Cross Station. She passed directly through the bricks in an instant -- without even a hint of resistance -- and blinked at the brilliantly lit Hogwarts Express on the other side.

The platform was nearly empty, but for a few of the staff restocking the train before it headed north. Things still hadn't quieted down for Ginny or James since the inquiry, so the Potters had decided to arrive early to avoid the crowd -- and any reporters that might try to ambush them along the way. That was fine with Ginny; there was more than enough going on to keep her preoccupied without being mobbed by reporters.

Ginny had hardly slept after her dream last night, and her mind was still whirring with the implications of everything Lucius Malfoy had said in Knockturn Alley. She knew she needed to tell James what she'd learned, but what if it just got him into more trouble at work? What if she got something wrong and just made everything worse again? Maybe she could write it all in a letter and let James and the Order decide what to do...

Up ahead, James was greeting another wizard whose shabby robes were in an obvious state of disarray. Ginny stopped and fiddled with some of the straps on her trunk; she didn't want to interrupt them, but she wondered if she should go and say something or try to pull James aside. It was frustrating; she never used to doubt herself about these things, but last year had certainly proven that she couldn't always trust her gut.

Harry was the last to come through the barrier, slowing to a halt beside Ginny once he reached the platform. A tentative smile spread across his face as he looked up at the gleaming Hogwarts Express. "Do you think this year will be different? Better, I mean?"

"I'm sure it will. We don't have Lockhart anymore, it's _bound_ to be loads better." Secretly, Ginny wasn't so sure, but she kept those thoughts to herself.

They stood in silence for a moment. "I'm sorry I dragged us along after Lucius Malfoy…" she began.

"Following Malfoy was a really good idea last night," Harry said at the same time.

They both laughed, and Ginny felt the tips of her ears begin to burn. Harry continued, "And figuring out the vent, that was genius! See? You've already got the cloak worked out, I told you it was a good idea."

"I know we should tell your dad," Ginny confided. "But I've already caused so much trouble for him…"

"I was thinking about telling him, too. The worst part is that we don't have any proof. Even if dad believes us _\-- and_ he doesn't get mad at us for sneaking out -- there isn’t anything we can use to convince the Ministry." Harry scratched the back of his neck, making a face that Ginny had seen James make when uncertain. "We should probably still tell him. I should do it, it was my idea to go out with the cloak."

She wanted to say yes, to just let Harry handle it all, but there was more than what they'd heard in the _White Wyvern._ There was the dream, too.

"No, I'll do it, since I was at the trial. But I think I'll write him a letter, I just want to make sure I can remember all of it first."

"Ron and I can help you. We talked about it a bit last night, but we don't really know what Lucius Malfoy and the other man were talking about. It sounded like it was about the breakout -- did you understand it?"

"I think so." Ginny paused, wondering if she dared to go on. But Harry had trusted her first when he'd given her the cloak. To keep her safe. She remembered the warmth of his shoulder pressed against hers as they'd crouched beneath it, laughing at Lucius Malfoy in the dark. "I had another dream."

"About _him_?" Harry's voice was low and his eyes darted down the platform. Ginny nodded, she didn't need to guess whom Harry meant.

"There were other people, too, but I can't remember who else -- I'll show you what I wrote down when we're on the train. There was a snake and some sort of ritual. At least, I'm pretty sure there was." Ginny paused, unsure of what else to say. What did it mean that she was getting these dreams? "I just wish I knew what they meant -- or _why_ I’m dreaming them."

"You opened the Chamber as a first year _and_ won us the House Cup -- if anyone can figure this out, it’s you."

He said it with such an easy confidence, and Ginny could feel the heat building in her cheeks. "I had help with all of that -- from Ada and Colin and Ron. I couldn't have done it alone."

"And you aren't alone now." Harry clasped her shoulder and Ginny suddenly felt warm all over. She wanted to run her fingers over where he had touched.

_'Don't make it awkward, you've touched Harry loads of times before this!'_ she scolded herself, but it did little to halt the feelings bubbling inside of her and the words echoing in her brain.

_You aren't alone now._

Ginny whispered it to herself, feeling her heart soar. Harry had said that to her, _Harry_. And he was right, she wasn't alone.

She looked at Harry, and she realized what he had become to her in only a year: he was family, but also more than that. He looked back at her and she felt something stirred deep in her belly, and she almost _knew_ that they were thinking the same things.

"Ginny! Come meet your new professor!" James called from further down the platform, and Ginny nearly jumped in surprise.

Harry blinked, equally startled.

"Erm, see you on the train, then? Here," he said, extending his arm out toward her.

Maybe it was the feeling of warmth from earlier, or the tenderness of the moment, but as Harry reached out to her, Ginny instinctively did the same. As she wrapped her arms around him for a hug, she quickly realized her mistake when he looked at her in surprise... and he reached past her for the handle of her luggage trolley.

"Oh -- I was just grabbing your trolley for you…"

"I'm sorry, I thought you were…"

"I wasn't. Just getting the trolley," Harry said, his eyes firmly on the ground as his cheeks began to burn.

"Oh." 

They both quieted, the awkwardness of the moment filling the space between them. Ginny felt deflated, all the warm feelings from earlier dissipated before they could take shape. Had she misread everything?

Her disappointment must have shown on her face, because Harry quickly added, "I'm not saying that I wouldn't, I just didn't know that's what you wanted. Right now."

They stared at each other's feet in silence, not daring to meet each other’s eyes, until Ginny couldn’t stand it any longer. "Well, I guess I should go meet that teacher," she said, knowing that her face was scarlet.

"See you on the train, then," Harry said, quickly turning and walking away, his shoulders hunched up to his ears. After a moment, he seemed to realize that he'd forgotten Ginny's trolley and hurried back to grab it, mumbling an apology as he went.

Why couldn't she have a normal conversation with Harry anymore? Had something changed for her last night, when she felt the urge to kiss his cheek? Was that why she'd made a fool of herself just now? 

Walking over to join James and Lily on the platform, Ginny tried to push those thoughts from her mind. _‘It’s not even a big deal,’_ she told herself. _‘He’s probably already thinking about quidditch or playing gobstones.’_

Ahead of her, the wizard speaking with James looked rather ill, his face pallid and scarred in long, white streaks.

"Ginny, I'd like you to meet Remus Lupin. He'll be your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts this year," James said, clapping the man on the back. "He was part of the old gang when we were in school. _And he's a member of the Order_." He added the last bit in an undertone, tapping his nose as he nodded to Ginny.

_‘Another member of the Order!’_ Ginny thought with surprise as she shook Professor Lupin’s hand. Maybe she could hear some of their plans; the adults had been tight lipped ever since they had talked about it over the summer, but Ginny felt she deserved to know at least _something_ for all her trouble. She felt resentful for being left out of the loop, especially since they wouldn’t know the truth about the breakout if it wasn’t for her.

" _Was_ part of the old gang?" Remus asked, incredulous. "Is this because I'm faculty now? Or did I get my membership revoked while I was away? Tried in absentia for crimes unknown?" 

"What are we to think, Remus? You don't floo, you don't write…" Sirius teased. "Did you find someone special to hole up with, or have you just been moping around by yourself?"

"It's Professor Lupin to you, Sirius," he said, sporting a wolfish grin. "And I've been traveling mostly. Other than that, I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of having your questions answered."

“What do you do for the Order, Professor Lupin?” Ginny noticed the battered suitcase sitting at his feet.

“Whatever is needed, mostly. I’ve done some recruiting in the past, but now that I’m at Hogwarts, I’ll be focused on educating you and your fellow pupils. Preparing you for the perils of the world. I’m looking forward to the change of pace.”

She could tell there was something guarded in how he spoke, something that they all seemed to understand but she didn’t. Ginny wanted to ask more about it -- and the Order -- but the adults were soon boasting of past triumphs at Hogwarts and she quickly lost interest, managing to slip away and head for the train.

She wasn’t willing to listen to James retell his favorite story about winning the quidditch cup on the off chance that he might accidentally reveal their plans for fighting Voldemort. Not when she could be playing wizard’s chess with Ron or exploding snap with the twins -- no matter how embarrassed she felt about her interaction with Harry. But before she could board the train, Alastor Moody stepped off, blocking the doorway. He was accompanied by a witch with bubble-gum pink hair, each wearing Auror uniforms.

"Ah, Weasley, there you are. I was just telling my trainee, Nymphadora…"

"It's Tonks!" shouted his trainee as she shoved Moody, though the effect was lost as he deftly turned his body and nearly sent her sprawling with his cane.

"Constant vigilance!" Moody barked, pounding the ground loudly to make his point, but Ginny caught him smiling as Tonks let out an angry huff and extended her hand.

"Wotcher, Ginny, I'm Tonks. I’m joining old Mad-Eye here at Hogwarts this year.”

"You're an Auror?" Ginny asked. She wasn't used to seeing policemen with pink hair or senses of humor, though she supposed it was unfair to judge them all by the one who had chased her from the abandoned house behind school a half dozen times. Not that Moody was any more _professional_ , but he looked the part in Ginny's mind.

"Don't sound so surprised! I've got more than a few tricks up my sleeve -- not that I'll be needing them while stationed at Hogwarts."

“You won't be thinking that once it's your job to keep this one out of trouble.” Moody gestured at Ginny with his cane, “I'm getting much too old to be hobbling around forests after her…"

"Ha! What a story," Tonks laughed. "Grizzled war hero gets lost in the Forbidden Forest looking for the Girl Who Lived. But she’s off finding the Chamber of Secrets and killing Slytherin's monster! With a sword! Blimey, that has to be the most Gryffindor thing anyone has _ever_ done."

Moody just shook his head. "You won't be laughing when I send you out there next time."

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause any trouble..." Ginny said, her eyes darting between Tonks and Moody.

"Now, that's a lie if I ever heard one. Don't go denying it, girl," Moody said, watching intently as the tips of Ginny's ears began to burn red. "I'm not mad, you killed a damn basilisk. I'm right pissed I had to hobble around the forest for a few hours -- don't you ever make me do that again -- but anyone who kills a beast like that has earned my respect."

Tonks proved to be great company and a fervent quidditch fan, telling Ginny about the Quidditch World Cup next summer and her bet on who would make the finals. "I hear you're a keen chaser yourself, I bet I can convince Mad-Eye to come watch a game. As protection, of course."

Tonks also eagerly demonstrated her metamorphmagus abilities to an amazed Ginny, making her hair flash brilliant colors and turning her mouth into a duckbill. It reminded Ginny of what Kreacher had said about magic not needing a wand or words.

"She used to morph into her professors and try to give out detentions and award house points!" Sirius shouted, trying to mess with Tonks's hair as he and James joined them. "Trouble must be in the blood, right Nymphadora?"

"It's Tonks," she ground out, shoving Sirius away. She straightened out her robes and quickly changed into Professor McGonagall, though she looked a bit younger than the one that Ginny knew. "And that will be five thousand points from Gryffindor, for your _insolence_ , Mr. Black. Goodness, what would your dear mother say?"

"Easy now, keep that old hag out of it, you hated her, too!" Sirius shouted. Moody simply shook his head and ignored them both, hobbling past them to speak with James.

"Potter," he said, shaking his hand. "You've got my full support, for whatever it's worth these days. I knew Robards well. He was a bit of an odd fellow and he talked too much on the job, but he knew what he was doing and he wasn't an idiot -- which is more than I can say for Fudge."

"Thank you, but I doubt I'll be in a position to do anything for much longer," James shrugged, and Ginny wondered if things were really going that poorly. Had she gotten James in trouble at work as she'd feared? "More time for the Order, anyway."

"That's how it is at the Auror Department now, everyone tripping over each other to throw Robards to the wolves, too busy panicking to see what's really going on. But that's how it always is, isn't it? No one realizes how close we get to the edge, how many plots are foiled, just at the last moment…" Moody spat heavily onto the tracks and shook his head.

"That… doesn't exactly make me feel better," James admitted.

"It's not meant to make you feel better, it's meant to remind you to be vigilant. Remember…"

"Constant vigilance!" Tonks barked, having changed into a perfect mimicry of Moody, right down to the wildly spinning eye and heavy cane. The real Mad-Eye only sighed.

"Come on, my turn now!" Sirius urged, nudging Tonks.

She spun on the spot, switching her appearance to an exaggerated version of Sirius, wearing tight leather pants and a matching jacket. "Most people think I'm joking, but really, I'm just _Sirius_."

Ginny was nearly doubled over, clutching her sides with laughter as Tonks continued to mock Sirius mercilessly. 

"Spot on! You've got him perfect," she joked as Sirius pretended to flirt with the ridiculous version of himself.

"You know, I'm still single, but I've got to say, I think I found the one," he said, sauntering over to Tonks. "What did you say your name was, beautiful?"

"Oi, geroff, you idiot!" Tonks said, trying to keep Sirius from planting a kiss on her cheek."I swear I'll do grandmum, I've seen enough pictures, I know I can do it! You'll regret it, Sirius, I meant it! Sirius!"

* * *

"Why do you think we've stopped?" Colin wondered aloud, pressing his face to the glass. "You think there was a problem with the train? Can magical trains even have malfunctions?"

"Of course, especially when pixies get into the engine room," Luna answered airily. "That's why most train engineers take milk baths for good luck."

Ada gave her a strange look and simply shook her head, pulling her cloak more tightly about herself. It did feel as if it had suddenly got much colder, the window fogging as Colin breathed on it, and Ginny wondered what it could be. Tendrils of coldness seemed to twine their way through the compartment, running along the back of her neck and sending shivers down her spine.

Ginny turned at the sound of the compartment door sliding open, icy cold fear spreading through her as she stared into the open maw of a dementor. Its hood turned toward her and it drew a rattling breath as two more shadowy figures glided to either side of the first, joining in its horrifying chorus. Ginny felt her eyes roll back and the breath flee from her, as if her whole body had lost control. Heavy weights seemed to press down on her from all sides, constricting around her like a python squeezing its prey. She made one final light-headed exhale and plummeted into the blackened chasm that blossomed below her.

_Despair. Dark and deep and endless despair, an ocean spreading silently from its mouth, fetid waters lapping hungrily at her legs and feet… And then a bright light flashing in her eyes…_

_Sharp, screeching sounds filled Ginny's ears as the car swerved and her body pitched forward, the jolt of a seatbelt snapping against her chest. A woman screamed._

_The car crash where the Sheltons died… it had to be… but there was something strange about it, the quality of the memory felt wrong. Weak. Insubstantial._

_In the back of her mind, Ginny knew something was different. She wanted to reach out and wipe the memory away from her, but her arms felt so heavy, her body sinking under the weight._

_Then her vision flickered and distorted, something pulling at the edges of her memory for what lay beneath. The colors ran and blended until they were replaced by the image of what she'd seen in the articles Rita had shown her. The werewolf attack._

_The car crash was gone, but the weight still pressed against her senses. The door swung open as Mr. Shelton ran out onto the front lawn, and Ginny heard his shout as a woman screamed, just as she had in the car crash. Flecks of something warm and wet sprayed her skin as Ginny watched claws rend flesh._

_The woman's terrifying scream built into a crescendo of sound and pain, shifting in pitch and octave until it was another voice altogether._

_Brilliant green light flashed in Ginny's eyes and the pain in her head multiplied until it was a searing intensity beyond comprehension…_

_'Mum?' Ginny wondered, grasping at her own rasping throat, wondering if the scream was her own..._

"Ginny!" someone shouted, and hands gripped her shoulders tightly. 

Her head swam as her senses began to return, realizing that she was now lying on her back. The light was too bright but she felt too weak to shade her eyes, and her ears rang with the memory of sound. Harry stood above her, his face pale with worry as he said her name over and over.

"Give her some space," insisted Professor Lupin, lightly pulling Harry aside. Ginny stared at the ceiling, feeling people crowding around the edges of her vision. Finally, her breathing came easily, but images of her dreams swirled in confusion in her mind -- or were they memories?

"What…" Ginny tried to ask, her scar throbbing with a dull ache, a shadow of the pain she'd felt in the memory only moments before. She touched it gingerly, surprised when it came away clean. It had felt like her entire head was splitting from the pain.

"Dementors, the guards of the wizard prison, Azkaban," Lupin explained, breaking off a piece of a chocolate bar and handing it to Ginny as she struggled to sit up. "They'll be patrolling Hogwarts this year after the breakout, but they aren't supposed to attack students like that. The chocolate will help."

"Did I faint? Did anyone else…?" Ginny looked around at her friends' faces; they all looked ashen and quite shaken, but none had fainted.

"Harry was really pale," Ron offered. "And I felt like I'd never be happy again. But I don't think anyone else…"

Ginny grunted in idle frustration. What was wrong with her that she'd fainted when no one else had? Was she somehow weaker? And the images that had flashed before her eyes… the scream…

"Who was screaming?"

Everyone looked at each other, averting their eyes as she tried to read their expressions. 

"No one screamed, Ginny," Ada explained hesitantly. "Oh, but it was so horrible, like every bad thought I've ever had all at once."

"They're nasty creatures," Lupin explained as he broke more pieces of chocolate for the other students in the car. "They draw the very will to live right out of people, feeding on their fears and anxieties, multiplying their shame and anger and pain. Truly dark beings that prey on the very worst of ourselves."

"I've felt it before," Ginny said, starting to feel a little more herself as she ate the chocolate. "It was outside Hagrid's hut, when they came to take him to Azkaban. But I didn't faint like that, is there... is there something wrong with me?"

Lupin shook his head quickly. "No, of course not. I expect you've just experienced more sorrow than most. The dementors can sense that and feed on it. There were three of them now, all hungry without their normal diet of tortured souls in Azkaban, there aren't many that can withstand an attack like that." He looked at Ginny for a long while, his eyes searching for something. "Finish that chocolate and you'll feel a bit better, all of you. If you're still feeling shaken when we get to the castle, I can take you to visit Madam Pomfrey…"

"I'll be fine," Ginny insisted. How could she have been the _only_ one? She didn't want everyone to think she was weak, that she couldn't handle herself.

And then she realized that it was much worse than that: if word got out, people would think that the article was _right_. Rita wrote that she was a fraud and a drama queen who needed to be in the spotlight -- would people think she'd fainted because she wanted attention? That she was some silly little girl playing damsel? It made her sick.

After Lupin and the others returned to their car, Ginny sat quietly, munching on the last of her chocolate as she thought about the dementors. She hoped that they would be well away from campus, but there was no way of knowing how often she might run into them.

There had to be a way to deal with them or learn to resist them, but she didn't know where to begin. Hagrid might know after he'd spent time at Azkaban last year, but when she'd seen him at the end of the semester he hadn't looked very well.

"Those dementors are really terrible," Ada said, her eyes flicking toward Ginny warily, as if mentioning them alone might cause her to faint.

"Yeah, but did you see what that wizard did? That shield thing he made?" Colin gestured enthusiastically as he described the glowing light that had burst from Lupin's wand. "And they just turned and ran from it, like it scared them! What _was_ that spell?"

"Oh, you mean the patronus?" Luna's voice had returned to its airy register, and she carefully set aside her magazine and tucked her wand behind her ear. "Daddy says it's a rare bit of magic, but I always thought they formed into animals. I wonder who he was."

Ginny was happy to steer the conversation from dementors. "That's Professor Lupin, he's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. I just met him this morning, but he's an old friend of Harry's mom and dad."

"Really? He's a professor? He looked like a bit of a tramp," Ada said, sniffing. "Still, he's already a better wizard than Lockhart. You said he's friends with James Potter?"

It wasn't long before their conversation turned to other topics, the experience with the dementors soon overshadowed by the excitement of going back to Hogwarts. Being with her friends, Ginny finally felt something like normalcy beginning to return.

She stroked Cleo softly, allowing the gentle rocking of the train to ease her nerves. _'This is nothing new, I've always had to prove myself. I did when I played football and quidditch, I did it in the Chamber, and I'll do it again.'_ It was always going to be a tough year, she would just have to be even tougher, be that much better.

But, like Harry said, she didn't have to do it alone.

* * *

"What's the point in having all these dementors at school, it's ridiculous! How am I supposed to get anything done?"

Ginny turned at the sound of the voice, seeing two Slytherin girls not far ahead on the path as she stepped off the train in Hogsmeade Station. The press of students coming off the train filled the space between them, pushing Ginny further back in the crowd, but she could still hear them talking loudly over the din.

"It's supposed to be protection from P-P-P-Professor Q-Q-Q-Quirrell, all because _the_ _Chosen One_ had a nightmare. Give me a break, it's totally ridiculous," said the second girl, flipping her hair back over her shoulder and twisting it into a ponytail. "It's feeding into her delusion, just you watch, she'll come up with some other way to make this year all about her again."

Ginny started to weave her way through the press of students, trying to get closer to the girls, though she wasn't sure what she wanted to do once she got to them. Ada tensed beside her and tried to grab her hand, but Ginny shook her off and pushed forward. She had to know.

"Oh she's already started, didn't you hear that first year jabbering on about it? She _fainted_ when the dementors came on the train. So much for brave Gryffindors."

"She really _fainted_?" The disdain was nearly dripping from her words, and Ginny felt something cold settle deep in her chest. "That's so embarrassing, she must really be desperate for the attention. It's really immature and makes the rest of us girls look bad. I told you Rita Skeeter was right -- the Chamber nonsense was all just a cover-up for something."

"But what about the petrified students?"

"It's not like anyone _died_ , you know? It was probably some stupid prank. Students get hurt at Hogwarts all the time -- didn't Draco say that know-it-all Granger got turned into a cat or something last year? I bet there was never any Chamber at all and Dumbledore just used it as an excuse to play favorites for the House Cup again."

"You're probably right, and Dumbledore is so obvious about it, too. He just gives Weasley everything she wants on a silver platter, like playing quidditch as a first year. We're so mistreated as Slytherins, we should just change our sigil to, like, a house elf."

"Ew gross, could you imagine?"

Ginny could feel the rage building inside of her, snarling from within as she reached into her robes for her wand, feeling comfort in its presence. _Given to her on a silver platter._ Like she hadn't worked hard to make the quidditch team, like she hadn't run for her life in the forest or nearly died beneath the school, bearing it all in silence.

In a crowd like this, she could hex them and they'd probably never know who really did it, just a good _bat bogey_ for each of them...

There was a tug at her wrist, and this time Ada held firm. "Hey, it's not worth getting a detention over," she hissed, holding Ginny back. "You've got a whole year ahead of you, we'll find a better opportunity."

Ginny let out an angry breath, calming her boiling nerves. For now. "Fine, but I'm just putting it off," she insisted. "Who are they anyway?"

"Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode. They're jerks in the year above us, part of that whole pureblood crowd. Come on, there's Hagrid," Ada said, steering Ginny out of the flow of people moving toward the carriages. "Let's see him first, alright?"

"First years, all to me!" Hagrid bellowed, and a group of first years started to gather nervously around him. Ginny couldn't believe that she'd stood here just a year ago, worrying about making friends and whether she could _really_ do magic. Worrying that somehow this was all a mistake or a dream and she would wake up back with Ms. Cameron at her foster home, her shrill voice shouting about the morning chores.

Over the last year, all of Ginny's problems had grown much faster than she had, with every new answer posing twice as many questions. Still, she had managed to survive, learning truths and uncovering lies. And she wasn't alone anymore, she had her friends and family, people who cared about her.

When Hagrid saw them, he waved them over enthusiastically, his face warm and full as it had been before his time in Azkaban. After her experience on the train, Ginny couldn't imagine how anyone could endure being imprisoned with the dementors for an hour -- much less for _weeks_. 

"Ginny! It's so good to see ya! And you, too, Ada. I hope you both have had a good summer?" He seemed to remember something, the look of excitement falling from his face. "Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you that. You know, I was so angry when I heard what that nasty Rita Skeeter wrote. I was sittin' at the Leaky and told Tom the barman straight away that it was all lies, and he went and put a sign up that no one was to read it in his bar or he'd give them the boot. Real decent bloke, that Tom…"

"Did you read it…?" Ginny asked hesitantly.

"Course not! Don't want to give that Skeeter woman the satisfaction, if you ask me. There's plenty of people that know who you really are -- _and_ what you did for everyone last year. Hogwarts protects its own, and you're family, Ginny."

Hagrid really felt like his old self, and it gave Ginny confidence that she too could learn to resist the influence of the dementors. Maybe it would just take time.

"That reminds me, I've also got a bit of exciting news to tell you," Hagrid said, straightening the lapels on his long coat. "You're looking at one of Hogwarts's newest professors! Can you imagine that? Professor Rubeus Hagrid… my old dad would've dropped on the spot if I'd told him…"

"What are you teaching, Hagrid?" Ada asked, unable to hide her surprise.

"Care of Magical Creatures, of course! And right after Ginny here told me that my magic was as good as anyone else's, that I'm just as much a wizard as anyone else, in my own way. Professor Dumbledore came and asked me, and I'd have said no if you hadn't put some sense to me. He will announce it at the feast tonight, but I wanted to tell you myself."

"I knew you could do it, Hagrid!" Ginny gave him a hug, though she didn't manage to get far around him, but he smiled all the same.

"Alright, you lot best get off to your carriages and up to the castle," Hagrid said, shooing them away with his large hands. "I've got to make sure I haven't lost any first years. Come and visit me when you get a chance, I know you won't be able to take my class until next year, but I'd love to have you all over for a cup of tea."

As they left, a small, mousy-haired boy shouted goodbye to Colin, waving frantically from his tiptoes.

"See you at the feast Dennis!" Colin yelled back.

"Merlin's beard, there's two of them," Ada joked as Colin smiled sheepishly. "He seems excited."

"I think I worked him up about it; I've been gushing about Hogwarts all summer. I couldn't help it! You should've seen him when he got his letter, he could hardly contain himself. He's calmed down a lot since then."

"I'll take your word for it," Ada laughed, "now let's go find the carriages before we miss dinner."

* * *

"It's too bad we have to wait until after the Sorting to eat," Colin groaned, reaching down to give Ada a hand into the carriage. "I'm starving."

They had arrived last of all the students, with only one carriage remaining as the previous one trundled ahead into the rising fog. Ginny could still see its outline in the light of the moon, though the eerie horses -- if she could call them that -- seemed to fade into the darkness. Those that were harnessed to their own carriage remained still and silent, and the only indications that they were alive were the tendrils of breath that rose from their nostrils in delicate clouds. 

"Didn't you have three treacle tarts from the Honeydukes trolley? And Lupin's chocolate?" Ginny pointed out, watching the skeletal horses uneasily as they pawed at the ground with their hooves. There was something reptilian about them, as if a dragon had somehow merged with a horse. One shook its mane, sending the ghostly hair waving silently on an unseen breeze.

"Yeah, but that was hours ago. I hope they have mince pies like last year."

"Is Dennis excited for the Sorting?" Ada asked as she sat down across from Ginny, paying the eerie horses no mind.

"I think so. He might be even more nervous than I was, but I told him he doesn't have to do anything, the hat will take care of it all. I do hope he gets Gryffindor, though. I feel like I need to keep an eye on him. The magical world is a lot more dangerous than the muggle one, don't you think, Ginny?"

Ginny nodded, but she was distracted by the creatures. Once they'd all sat down, the horses immediately started pulling, and the carriage swayed gently with the natural motion of their bodies.

Had Ada and Colin seen the horses last year, and that's why they weren't afraid? Maybe Ada knew about them since she'd grown up as a witch, but Ginny was surprised that Colin was so calm. Had being petrified changed him that much over the summer?

Luna wasn't paying attention; her head was leaning back against the edge of the carriage as she stared into the sky, her fingers outstretched as if trying to graze the stars. She was still wearing the strange pair of glasses that she used on the train to read her magazine.

"Is no one going to bring up the skeleton horses pulling the carriage?" Ginny asked, confused.

Colin and Ada each stared at her for a moment before glancing back to the front of the carriage. 

"What are you talking about, Ginny?" Ada asked.

"Oh! You can see them, too?" Luna took off her glasses, turning toward Ginny in surprise. She sat up and lodged her wand behind her ear. "Aren't they wonderful? They're called thestrals."

"Thestrals? Why can't Ada and Colin see them?" Was it another ability, like being a parselmouth? 

"We see them because we've seen death before. For me it was my mum. She was experimenting with a spell and lost control. I saw it happen, and, well, after that I could see thestrals."

"Wait, but that can't be right, I haven't seen anyone die before… I…"

_But no, that wasn't true, was it?_

She had seen death. She'd seen the flash of Myrtle Warren's murder when the diary was destroyed. She'd seen the Auror, Robards, murdered in her dream from Voldemort's eyes. And something else, maybe in her latest dream… the snake…?

_'And the Sheltons,'_ she realized with a jolt, thinking of the images that had flashed in her mind when the dementors had come. Rending claws and flecks of blood, and that terrifying scream…

More people murdered, all for her. The realization hurt so much that she knew it must be true. Ginny hadn't _really_ seen Robards or Moaning Myrtle die, it was all secondary through the eyes of another, and she doubted that she'd been able to see when her parents had been murdered, she was just a baby. If she'd seen the Sheltons' murder, then it meant Rita had been right about the memory charm. She needed to speak to Dumbledore, she needed to hear him say it.

Ginny wiped angrily at her eyes, feeling like her whole world was spinning. What other lies had she been told? What else had been hidden or changed? She hated that she'd never been given a choice in any of this, hated how it made her feel sick with fury.

"Ginny? Are you alright?" Ada asked hurriedly. "Did something happen, like with the dementors?"

"I'm fine," she lied, trying to casually settle back into her seat. She wasn't ready to share her suspicions yet, the realization felt too raw, too personal. Had Dumbldore thought he was protecting her? _Or was he just trying to control her again?_

Ginny nearly didn't catch that whisper from Tom's voice, it had sounded so like her own. She would ask Dumbledore himself, and she wouldn't leave until she got her answer. It was the only thing to do now.

Ginny found that she couldn't keep herself from staring at the ghostly thestrals as they trotted in front of the carriage, their graceful motions fluid like water. Maybe she understood a little better why Luna said they were wonderful; there was something deeply peaceful about them and their silence, as if they too were mourning the loss. Unsettling didn't have to mean scary, she decided.

Her friends chatted away for the rest of the ride to the castle, and Ginny began to catch their excitement despite her lingering resentment. She was going back to Hogwarts, back to magic and quidditch and her friends.

In a way, she was going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *No Daphne Greengrasses were harmed in the making of this chapter


	6. Lone

##  **Lone**

_Was I ever more than something on your mind?_

_Do you miss me not being by your side?_

_By your side?_

_Well, I thought that I was someone to you_

_Well, I just wanted to be a home to you_

_By your side_

  * _What So Not, Ganz, JOY, 2016_



* * *

Ginny swung the portrait hole open, hopping out into the hallway as Colin and Ada followed behind. It was the first Saturday of the school year, and, so far, Ginny was pleased with how things were going. There had been whispers, of course, and she'd caught a few people staring, but for the most part people didn't bother her.

Selwyn was still pulling out all the stops to try to antagonize her during class, but she found that it wasn't hard to ignore him for the two periods they shared with Slytherins. After she overheard Lucius Malfoy's whispered plans, she knew that there were much bigger enemies to worry about.

"Oh, Vi, you know what you need? Wait, students! Back here, if you please!" The Fat Lady waved them back to the Gryffindor entrance, and Ginny saw that her cheeks were a little red from drinking wine. A few wine barrels stood overturned in a corner, which Ginny thought she recognized from a painting of monks on a vineyard hanging in a rotunda on the fourth floor.

"There's going to be a change in password dears, the new one is, _'Mr. Walrus is a nincompoop, and he doesn't deserve the stunning Ms. Violet.'_ See, Vi? Now they'll all be saying it. He's bound to get the message."

"Oh, I don't know, I don't think I can show my face there again," Violet sobbed, blowing her nose loudly into her monogrammed handkerchief. "Oh, Merlin's beard, I bet the Small Chamber Portrait Council will vote me out for making a fuss -- you know how that group is! They're so insular, I'll be relegated to some forgotten corridor that leads to the dungeons, I'm sure of it."

"That seems a bit long for a password, don't you think? How about just _'nincompoop'_?" Ada countered, crossing her arms. Both women in the portrait looked afronted at the interruption.

"Oh, _I'm sorry_ , I didn't realize you were qualified to criticize my performance as guardian of the Gryffindor tower entrance. Can't you see we're facing a crisis here?" The Fat Lady snapped, brandishing a goblet of wine that sloshed with each inflection of her voice. "Now shoo, and tell the prefects about the new password!"

Once they reached the Great Hall, Ginny sat across from Ron and Harry, delighting that things between them felt like they had over the summer. She hadn't had any mishaps with Harry since her embarrassing display a week ago on Platform 9 ¾, and she wasn't about to screw it up by making things awkward again.

"What happened, Ron?" Ginny gestured to his bandaged hand, watching as he struggled to manage his fork left-handed.

"It's that textbook for Hagrid's class, the thing has teeth and a nasty bite! Can you believe that? His class was fun but he's off his rocker if he thinks I'm going to try to read that thing."

"I really think you should get Madam Pomfrey to take a look at your hand," Hermione prompted, though Ron just rolled his eyes. "And I don't like those books either; a book shouldn't serve as a barrier to knowledge, that's against its purpose!"

"Of course you'd think that," Ron answered, shaking his head.

Harry laughed, and Ginny watched how his smile curled at the edges of his mouth. His hair was still messy from bed -- as usual, he probably hadn't even tried brushing it. She wondered how it would feel to put her fingers through his thick curls, if she would feel him press his head against her hand...

"Excited for tryouts this year?" Harry asked her, and Ginny nearly put her elbow in the jam.

She mumbled something nearly incoherent about being ready to put on a show, all the while worrying about how red her face felt. Harry didn't seem to notice, though, nodding in all the right places. And the more they talked, the more she felt like herself. She _was_ excited for quidditch; soon she would be hurtling through the clouds, evading bludgers as she passed the quaffle with Angelina and Katie, cheering as they scored one past the keeper. With a start, she realized how much it had come to mean to her, because it was much more than the sport; it was the team.

"Wood is probably going to double our practices after last season was cancelled," Harry complained. "I think he'll go mental if he doesn't win the cup before he graduates."

"Then I guess we'd better win this year," Ginny answered, deciding whether or not she should try to do an impression of Wood while he was seated only a dozen spots down the table.

"So, what's this about your new pet?" Ada asked Colin, looking at Ginny pointedly. _That's enough quidditch talk,_ Ginny could imagine her saying.

"I was hoping you'd ask!" Colin grabbed his bag from between his feet and rummaged for a moment, pulling out a large grey rat, much to Ada's dismay. "His name is Whiskers! I was thinking something more like Professor Whiskers von Cheese, but Dennis thinks it's a bit pretentious."

"Did you seriously bring a _rat_ to breakfast?" Ada asked, shifting her plate to Ginny's other side and slipping out of her chair. "That is so disgusting, I can't even talk to you right now. Switch spots with me, Ginny. As if anyone with a rat could be considered pretentious."

Ginny exhaled loudly but slid over anyway, shaking her head.

"Well, what was I supposed to do?" Colin held the rat close, gently stroking it's fur. Whiskers looked like he'd seen much better days. "I didn't want to bring him into the common room when Cleo can get down there! I thought I'd show him the school since it's Saturday."

"Ughhhh, have fun with that. I'm not even hungry anymore." Ada made a big show of pushing her food away and fished out a book from her bag.

"When did you get a rat?" Ginny asked. Had he mentioned it in his letter and she'd just forgotten? She had skimmed parts of it...

"It's a great story, actually," Colin said, carefully setting Whiskers on his lap. "I found him curled up in my things when we got back from the Feast! He must have snuck in while we were on the train or something."

"You found a rat in your clothes and the first thing you thought of was a name for it?" Ada asked, peeking her nose above her book again.

"He's… almost cute," Ginny tried, but it didn't feel very convincing. "A little scruffy around the ears, though."

"Oh, he'll grow on you, I know it. I was surprised at first -- I almost flung him out the window, but he was just curled up in my Gryffindor scarf like he belonged. What if he's a special magical rat?" Colin shrugged, the edges of his lips turned upward in a hint of a smile. "I just knew I had to keep him after that."

"That's sweet," Hermione said, pouring herself a cup of tea. "That's how I felt when I found Crookshanks over summer. The owner of _Magical Menagerie_ said he'd been there longer than the rest of the cats put together, because no one wanted him. How could I say no after that?"

Before long, Ginny was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder, and turned to find a group of first year Gryffindors standing behind her. "Romilda Vane," announced the middle one, sweeping her hand through her bouncy black curls. "Oh hi, Ana, isn’t it?"

"It's _Ada_ ," Ada ground out, her eyes narrowed at Romilda. Ginny noticed that her hands were clenched.

"Sure," Romilda offered with a false smile, "anyway, I'm excited to finally meet you, Ginny. I wish we had been in the same year, then I could've introduced you to all the _right_ people, the ones who… matter." At this, her eyes flicked meaningfully between Ada and Colin, who was now trying to feed his rat baked beans from his fork.

"And I suppose you and your friends are the _right_ people?"

"Now you're catching on. You're cleverer than you look, did you know? Why don't you come sit with us?" Romilda smiled but it came nowhere near her eyes. "There's a free seat next to mine."

"I think I can figure out who the right type of people are on my own, thanks," Ginny said, glaring at Romilda as she made a sour face and stalked away.

"Yeah, she's full of it. _And_ she knows my name, we've met plenty of times since we were kids," Ada said by way of explanation.

"We're _still_ kids," Colin interjected. "I'm twelve."

"Little kids, then," Ada huffed. "Anyway, that hat must not be working if it put her in Gryffindor. Though she _is_ bold -- maybe she wasn’t cunning enough for Slytherin. Is there a house that specializes in pettiness?"

The flapping of dozens of wings filled the Great Hall as the morning post arrived, owls circling and dropping packages and notes and newspapers that skittered across tables and upended butter dishes. A large tawny owl landed next to Hermione, extending its leg so that she could take her newspaper and drop a few coins into the owl's little pouch.

The smile soon faded from Hermione's face as she read the paper, her eyes darting to Harry and Ginny briefly, though Harry hadn't noticed that something was amiss. After another moment, she let out a shuddering breath and folded the paper in half, shoving it under Harry's nose. "You'd better read this, Harry, maybe back up in Gryffindor tower."

"What? You actually subscribe to the _Prophet_?" Harry took the paper without looking at it, already turning back to hear the end of what Ron was saying about his latest ridiculous Malfoy theory.

But Hermione kept a hold of the paper, giving it a little tug to get his attention. "Harry, I'm serious. Look," she said, letting the paper unfold along the crease so that he could see the headline. Ginny was able to read it from upside down, the words _'Harry Potter, The Boy Who Fibbed!'_ scrolling across the Daily Prophet cover like a marquee.

Ginny felt her stomach drop, feeling like an endless pit of fear inside of her. She knew that she had been a fool to hope that Rita wouldn't print anything about Harry after her interview. The memory of choosing not to tell him quickly resurfaced in her mind. She could have warned him, but she had been too afraid to bring it up, hoping he would never find out.

_‘Well,’_ she thought to herself, _‘he found out after all.’_ And the look of betrayal on Harry's face as he caught her eye was enough to confirm her worst fears.

"Harry, I…"

He stood without making a sound, but his eyes never left hers. Harry had never looked at her with such pain and disgust -- with such open _anger_ \-- since he'd run headlong into her in the hallway last year. When Tom had been in control.

And then he was off, striding heavily out of the main hall, the newspaper crumpled on his seat. Ron bent to pick it up, but Ginny snatched it from his fingers before he could look at it properly, ignoring his sounds of protest as she hurriedly began to read the article.

It was bad.

It was really, _really_ bad.

The article pulled everything she'd said out of context, and of course Rita happily filled in the gaps in the story with her own wild ideas. She claimed that Harry had been behind the Chamber of Secrets and the attacks on muggleborns but neglected to mention Tom Riddle's diary, and implied that James had used his influence in the Ministry to shield Harry from any repercussions. She had even printed Harry's private letter to Fudge.

Rita claimed that Ginny had revealed inconsistencies in her interview that told a very different story, and launched into a deranged commentary on the meaning of Harry's letter.

_'He says he was not under his own control, but then whose control was he under? This reporter believes that Ginny Weasley, child celebrity and known megalomaniac, kept the young Harry Potter enthralled through a powerful love potion, forcing him to carry out attacks on his fellow students and taking on the mantle of the Heir of Slytherin. But where was Ginny Weasley when all the dust settled? Standing right in the middle of everything and claiming to have saved the day.'_

She was done. Ginny could feel her throat closing and her breathing coming fast and ragged. What if James got in trouble, what if Harry _believed_ it, what if…

"Ginny, you need to breathe. Come on and follow me." Ada gripped her by the elbow, helping her to her feet and steering her from the Great Hall. Ginny followed blindly, her mind spinning with the implications of the second article.

_What has moping ever done for you? If you don't fight it, you deserve to have it happen to you._

Ginny shoved the thoughts away, but it felt as if they'd stained her with something dark, like an animal caught in tar. She shivered; she couldn't let Tom get a foothold, not again.

"I don't know what's going through your mind right now," Ada said, pulling her along as Colin jogged in their wake, "but don't blame yourself for this. That letter…"

"How can I not blame myself?" Ginny nearly shouted. "None of this would've happened if I hadn't done that interview with Rita!"

"You mean when you were cornered by an adult and tricked into giving an interview? Without a parent or proper permission? Don't you see what they're doing? It's not about the Chamber, it's about the inquiry." Ada shoved the newspaper back into Ginny's hands and pointed to Harry's letter to Prime Minister Fudge, printed in full. And then it clicked.

"Sorry, what _are_ they doing? And who are 'they'?" Colin asked, his eyes flicking between Ada and Ginny. "I feel like I missed the start of this story."

"Only Fudge ever saw the letter," Ginny whispered. "So Fudge himself must've given it to Rita and the _Daily Prophet._ They're using it to attack James because he embarrassed Fudge. They're trying to get him out of the Ministry."

Ginny stood there, staring at the article headlines as they scrolled endlessly through their loop, taunting her. What should she do? What _could_ she do?

Ada shook her shoulder a little, pulling the newspaper from Ginny's fingers. "Hey, let the Potters figure all of that stuff out. Go find Harry and talk to him."

She shook her head, "You should have seen the face he made when he looked at me, right before he stormed off. I should wait until he calms down, right?”

“Do it now, before he has time to spiral and get his temper going,” Ada said. “Trust me, you don’t want Malfoy to be the first person to find him.”

“What if he won't talk to me? What if I can't even find him?"

"Finding him shouldn't be a problem," Colin said, shrugging. Both Ginny and Ada turned quickly at his words, surprised. "Well, you've got that map now, don't you? Maybe it's time to give it a go."

* * *

Ginny followed the winding path to the Astronomy Tower, rehearsing what she would say when she found Harry at the top.

_'I didn't tell Rita those things -- well, I did tell her some of it -- but I didn't know she was going to attack you and make up those lies! I guess I suspected she might, after the first article -- and when she tricked me into breaking the glass, but I was afraid that you would be mad at me. Like you are now.'_

Ginny growled in the back of her throat. She'd been so stupid to think that it would just blow over. Of course Rita had used what she had said in the interview, she was always going to use it. Ginny had just chosen not to tell Harry because it was hard, not because she thought it wouldn't come up and not because she thought it would protect him. 

How was she any different than Dumbledore, only telling someone what was convenient or necessary? Wasn't it worse for Ginny to get mad about it, and then do the same thing to someone else?

She certainly thought so.

When Ginny reached the top of the tower, Harry was looking out over the battlements, his shoulders bunched toward his ears as if he expected someone to shout at him. He didn't turn as she approached, so she stood there silently, wishing that she knew what to say. At least they were alone.

"Come to gloat?" Harry asked, something dark in his expression as he finally turned toward her. He must have been expecting someone else, though, because his features softened when he saw her. "Oh, it's you."

"I came to apologize."

Harry snorted, "For what? Ensnaring me with a love potion to carry out your dark plans?" He flicked a stray bit of stone off the side, and they both watched as it bounced off the rooftops below and landed in a gutter with a soft clang. "I know Rita Skeeter is a liar. I know you didn't say what she wrote."

That was a relief, thought Ginny. “Does she write about your dad sometimes? With parliament?"

"All the time. Dad hates her, maybe almost as much as Lucius Malfoy." Harry stared at his feet, unwilling to meet her eyes. "Also, I… I read the article. The one Rita wrote about you -- dad said we shouldn't, but I knew Malfoy would so…" Harry shrugged, going a little red. "I guess I needed to be prepared."

They sat quietly across from each other, Ginny with her arms wrapped around her knees as she fiddled with the buckle on her shoe. She hoped that somehow things would just _get better_ from there, that sharing the silence would absolve her of the guilt she felt bubbling within her. But she knew she needed to tell him the truth if she wanted to fix it.

"I am really sorry, though. I'm the one that talked to Rita and told her about the Chamber and the diary, and I told her you wrote the letter. It's my fault all of this is happening. I didn't say those things or give her the letter, but I still should've told you about it."

"I guess I know a little bit of what you felt like now.” Harry exhaled deeply, staring at his hands with a tired fascination. “I suppose we can head back to Gryffindor tower. You didn't happen to bring the cloak with you, did you?"

Ginny stood up, extending her hand to Harry. "No, but I bet most people will be outside by now or in their common rooms. We can probably take the long way around and avoid running into anyone, if we're lucky."

But they weren't lucky.

"There they are, the two _love birds_ . Reckon they've been having a snog up in the Astronomy tower?" Malfoy asked Crabbe and Goyle as they stood on either side of him. They laughed their stupid laughs and tried to look intimidating, but Ginny knew they were just for show -- they weren't worth their knickers when it came to magic. "That's right Potter, I know all about your secret little _crush_."

"Rita's article was total rubbish…" Harry protested fiercely, and a part of Ginny wished he wouldn't. Maybe all of her did.

"It was rubbish was it? So you didn't use a love potion?" Malfoy asked in mock surprise as he turned to Ginny.

"Of course I didn't use a love potion!" Ginny snapped.

"I bet you didn't need to either. From what I hear Potter is already obsessed with you. Isn't that right, Potter? Always following her around like some stupid little dog?"

Crabbe and Goyle barked at Harry and little bits of spittle fell on their chins as they laughed. Gross.

"You don't know anything, Malfoy." Harry's jaw was clenched as he glared at Draco.

"I heard from your mum, in Diagon Alley. She was telling that fleabag Lupin at _Flourish and Blotts_. She said…"

"You shut your mouth Malfoy!" Harry yelled at him, his hands balled into fists.

"Maybe Weasley wants to hear? Don't you, Chosen One?" Draco mocked. "I suppose I can always write to Rita again and you can read about it yourself. You know, she said I was doing a public service in getting the truth out, it's only right."

"Why don't you do everyone a favor and shove off, Malfoy? Come on, Harry, let's get out of here," Ginny said, and reached for his hand, but Harry didn't take it.

"Run along now, Potter, if that's what your _girlfriend_ wants," Malfoy jeered, and Crabbe cracked his knuckles. "Don't want to become an embarrassment like your dad. My father's going to have him out of a job by the new year, if he doesn't resign in shame."

"Come on, he's not worth it," Ginny insisted, gripping Harry around the wrist. She didn't need this stupid macho 'protector' act, she just wanted to ignore Malfoy and let it all blow over, was that too much to ask?

"It's worth it to me," Harry muttered, pulling his hand back and reaching into his robes for his wand. "Malfoy's had it coming for a long time."

"You want to duel me, Potter? Do you think Weasley's heart could take it if I destroyed you right here?"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Ginny yelled again, wishing she could punch him in the face. "Let's just get out of here."

"No," Harry said, stepping toward Draco. "Let's duel."

"But is your girlfriend going to let you?"

"She's _not_ my girlfriend…"

"This is so stupid, Harry, just leave it." Ginny saw the expression harden in Harry's eyes, and she realized that she had snapped at him. Why had she gotten so angry? She knew Malfoy was just trying to get a rise out of her.

"No!" Harry bellowed, planting his feet. "It's not always about you, Ginny. That article came after _me_ , Malfoy is coming after _me_ \-- let me deal with my own problems. I don't need anyone protecting me."

Ginny crossed her arms, furious that he'd accused her of such. But was he right? Had she only been focusing on herself, not thinking of Harry? Did she think he couldn't handle himself because of what happened last year?

"So are we going to duel or what?" Malfoy taunted. "Because honestly, I could watch you argue all day."

Harry squared off against Draco, and Ginny stepped out of the way, frustrated that it had gone this far. "This is what he wants," she whispered to Harry in a last ditch attempt.

"It's what I want, too."

And then they were dueling -- Harry was throwing up shield charms and trying to stun Malfoy, while Draco dodged and threw a series of curses back at Harry in rapid succession. They traded spells back and forth until Harry finally got the upper hand, disarming Draco with a quick flick of the wrist and a well-timed _expelliarmus_. The wand bounced against the floor, coming to a stop against the far wall as Harry let out a whoop of triumph.

"I'm not finished with you, Potter!" Malfoy shouted, picking himself off the ground. "My father will hear of this!"

"Don't forget to tell him you lost!" Harry shouted, turning back to Ginny. He gave her a lopsided smile and she shook her head; it was hard to be angry with him when he looked like that.

Behind them, Malfoy snatched Crabbe's wand and pointed it at Harry. "Eat slugs, Potter!"

At the same time, Ginny shouted, "Harry!", and he managed to turn and dodge the spell at the last moment -- allowing it to hit Ginny square in the chest.

"Oof!" Ginny dropped to her knees, an uncomfortable sliminess coating her stomach and throat. With a heave, she spat a live slug onto the floor, and it slowly began trailing a pool of slime as it crawled for the door. "You've got to be…" Ginny started but was unable to finish, another bout of slugs surging forward.

Behind her, she heard shouting and expected they'd started the duel again, but she couldn't focus on anything but her stomach. As she tried to make it to the bathroom, Ginny ruminated on her frustrations. Why couldn't Harry have just left Malfoy be? Didn't he see that he's giving Malfoy everything he wants?

Her frequent stops to… _deslug..._ kept her from getting very far, and Harry soon caught up. "I left Draco in a body bind with an itching hex on his face, he'll be driven mad trying to scratch it. He had Crabbe and Goyle itching it for him when I left. Sorry he got you, though."

"I'm fine, just let me handle this," Ginny managed to say, clutching at her stomach as she tried to wave Harry away. She wasn't in the mood to talk to him right now, and she definitely did not want him to see her like this.

"You always have to do everything yourself, don't you?" Harry asked, and Ginny could hear the frustration in his voice. "Come on, I'll help you get to Madam Pomfrey."

"I'm fine, I don't need your help," she ground out, trying to suppress the feeling to throw up again. Were these slugs ever going to run out?

"Don't need it or you don't want it?"

"Both!" Ginny shouted, stopping to vomit another round of slugs. This one looked smaller than the last one, at least. Maybe that was a good sign?

"That's not fair, it was Malfoy's fault, I didn't curse you!"

"But you dueled him! I wanted to go, I said we should just leave" -- more slugs -- "but you _had_ to prove something to him. Why does his opinion matter so much to you? Why do you care what he thinks more than me?"

"What? I don't care what he thinks -- I don't have anything to prove to Malfoy!"

"You sure have a funny way of showing it. Just stop dragging me into your mess," Ginny spat, feeling slime in her mouth.

She coughed heavily, doubling over again as she felt another slug make its way out. There was a sign for the girls' bathroom and Ginny headed for it, hoping Harry wouldn't follow. She just needed a few minutes alone to settle herself.

"Fine, I see how it is." Harry's voice was cold, something dark lingering below the surface. "Is that why you brought me here, to this bathroom? Are you really trying to hold this over me, or did you think I would forget?"

Ginny looked around, realizing for the first time that it was Myrtle's bathroom -- the _Chamber_ bathroom. She felt her insides squirm with guilt, or more slugs. She hadn't meant it _that_ way.

"You know, my dad's probably going to lose his job because of the whole fuss you made about a _dream_ , so don't sound so high and mighty when you're talking about making a mess. If you hadn't talked to Rita, none of this would ever have happened!" Harry shouted through the open door, and then he was gone.

Ginny growled as she flung a stall door open, stumbling slightly as she raced to the toilet. She wanted to scream and tell him he was wrong, but it all felt too close to home. Maybe she _had_ ruined James's job; it was her fault he was in trouble with the Ministry and Fudge, _and_ it was her fault for telling Rita things she shouldn't have.

Maybe Harry was right, but he didn't have to be such a jerk about it. It's not like she forced anyone to do those things.

Ginny sat in silence, breathing heavily as the stomach cramps subsided and she finally felt herself again. She wished she could curl up in her bed with Cleo and sleep the day way, anything to escape this awful feeling.

Once she felt fully recovered, Ginny pulled herself to stand and opened the stall door again. She hadn't noticed before, but there was something oddly _normal_ about this bathroom; the floors were dry, the mirrors were clean, and there hadn't been a peep of Moaning Myrtle since she'd come in. Maybe they'd changed the bathroom, moved things around because of the Chamber?

Ginny crouched below the sink, and her eyes were drawn to the simple snake etched into the piping. She imagined the word 'open' in her mind, the slithering sounds of parseltongue leaving her mouth instead. The stone and ceramics drew back at her command, and the central column lowered to allow the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets to open once more.

Ginny stared down into the pit, the darkness seeming to seep upward and engulf her. She felt her breath coming fast and backed away until she was pressed against the wall.

_"Close,"_ she managed to whisper, and the piping folded backward until she was only looking at a normal sink, water dripping intermittently from the leaky faucet. Ginny wiped the tears from her face and sniffled, the breath feeling ragged in her throat. She would face it another day.

* * *

Ginny shoved her wand into her robes and stood up, gathering her book and notes and trying to stifle a yawn.

"Remember, I want fifteen inches of parchment for your essay on the folly of spell conjecture in Charms by next Friday!" Professor Flitwick emphasized his point with glowing letters above their heads, spelling out the due date in brilliant, flashing red. "And don't write with large letters to make your essay look longer -- I shrink them down so they're all a standard size! I'm looking at you, Mr. Lee."

"There goes my chance at an easy week," Colin sighed, stowing his quill and ink as they joined the students emptying into the halls. "I already did half the essay but my letters were nearly twice as big as normal. You don't think he gets rid of the spaces between paragraphs, too, do you?"

"Flitwick probably knows every trick in the book, he's the head of Ravenclaw house, remember?” Ada said. “Want me to take a look at it?"

Colin blushed a little. "Maybe after I give it another try, I don't think it's quite at 'Ada quality' yet."

"Well, I'll be in the library until dinner if you want to join me," Ginny offered.

"No you won't," Ada scolded. "I love a good book as much as anyone, but you can't spend _every_ night in the library. What am I supposed to do with my time -- make new friends?"

"It hasn't been _every_ night…"

Ada crossed her arms and gave Ginny a scathing look. "Don't start with that, it's like last year all over again. Do you even know what you're _really_ looking for? I know you're not doing homework."

Maybe Ada was right, Ginny's search had been fruitless so far, and she wasn't sure where else to look. But at the same time, she was certain that she needed to understand the diary. It was the key to everything, it had to be. If she knew what Voldemort had done, if she understood how the book had controlled her, maybe she could fight this. Maybe she could make it up to the Potters and everyone else who had sacrificed so much for her. "Well, I know some things about the diary, if I could just find a hint…"

"Not today, you're taking a break and coming with me, alright? And Colin, I'm reading that essay tonight whether you're ready or not."

"Ah jeez. Fine, I'll go work on it now. It's not even due tomorrow, you're worse than Flitwick." But Colin smiled and left all the same.

Ginny followed Ada as she wove through the crowd of students, moving in the opposite direction of Gryffindor tower. They chatted easily as they walked, but Ginny could tell that Ada was simply waiting to bring up her 'research', if she could even call it that at this point.

"You still haven't spoken with Dumbledore about what you saw," Ada said eventually. It wasn't a question.

"No, I don't even know why. Every time I decide to, something seems to come up."

"Because you don't want to. You seem to have plenty of time to do your own research -- even though you _know_ Dumbledore could help. So what is it?" Ada pressed.

Ginny didn't know how to explain it. She couldn't bring the diary up to Dumbledore without bringing up the Sheltons and the memory charm, couldn't mention her dream or what Lucius Malfoy had said in Knockturn Alley without remembering what she'd seen when the dementors had entered the train. And she wasn't sure if she was ready to hear the truth, if Dumbledore would even tell her.

"I don't know if I'm ready. If the Sheltons were murdered, then that's two more people who died because of me. And it's not like Dumbledore will tell me anyway. It'll be because I'm too young or it's too important and needs to be a secret. It's just like last year all over again, why can't I just decide things for myself?"

Ada nodded, and Ginny was relieved that she didn't press further. She was almost certain that Rita had told the truth, at least for this. Too many questions were answered by what she'd said, and of course there was the memory that she'd unearthed beneath the charm. No, Ginny was afraid of having it confirmed, of knowing that this stupid prophecy had placed even more blood on her hands. She was sick of it, sick of being the _Chosen One_ or whatever people saw her as. It was time she did things on her terms.

“Oh, there you are Ginny. I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Ginny turned to see who’d spoken and immediately regretted it.

“Not now, Romilda.” Ada sighed and crossed her arms, glaring at the other girl.

"I just wanted to talk to Ginny, I think we really got off on the wrong foot," Romilda simpered.

"Fine, what is it, Romilda?"

"You didn't really use a love potion to control Harry, did you? I read about it in the news…"

"I did _not_ slip Harry a love potion. And Rita Skeeter is _not_ the _news_ ," Ginny growled.

"Oh, that's good to hear. You live with the Potters now, right? That would be like giving your brother a love potion…"

"Well, no, Harry's not my brother…"

"It would be the same as if you gave your brother Ron a love potion really, since you're all _family_ now…"

"I'm not actually related to Harry, though," Ginny insisted, feeling a little flushed.

"Oh, so you're just friends, then?" Romilda asked, flashing a wicked grin. "I wouldn't think you'd need a love potion anyway, since you're so pretty, and the _Girl Who Lived_ and all that."

"Oh, thank you?" Ginny answered, caught off guard by the compliment.

"So you do think you're pretty?"

"What…?"

"Romilda!" Ada snapped.

"Don't you think she could have her pick of any boy at school? She doesn't even have to work for it like the rest of us." Romilda adjusted her hair primly and leaned toward Ginny conspiratorially. "That's why I've had my eyes on Harry for years, early hippogriff gets the squirrel and all that."

Ginny felt warmth flood her face, but she wasn't about to let some snobby first year get the better of her. Who did she think she was?

"It was nice chatting," Romilda said, slipping between Ginny and Ada as she left, "we should do this again sometime."

And then she was sweeping around the corner and out of sight. Ginny looked down and realized that her fists were clenched, little imprints of her nails standing out against the pad of her palm.

"I know I shouldn't let her get to me, but I _really_ hate Romilda."

"I knew you'd come around," Ada laughed. "You're a threat to the perfect little life she's been telling herself she deserves -- including Harry. She's been obsessed with your boy for years."

"Harry's not _my boy_ , especially not now," Ginny insisted, her ears going red at the thought. Their fight after the article had proven that much, if not his obvious indifference to thinking about her like _that_.

"So you keep insisting, but the harder you fight me on it, the more I believe it. That, and the fact that you haven't stopped blushing since she brought up Harry. I do have one question though -- how can you spend so much time around him at home and still be this embarrassed!"

"It's different there," Ginny insisted, "there isn't all of this pressure and uncertainty. Am I really that obvious about it?"

"To me, but I know you. Boys are, well, boys -- they don't pick up on subtlety. My mum says that men don't know what they want until you tell them." Ada went on to tell of how her mother had been in school at the same time as her father, but he'd hardly noticed her for six years. "Finally, she got fed up in year seven and told him right to his face that he'd better start dating her before she lost interest, and he asked her out on the spot."

"No wonder you're so pushy," Ginny chided, bumping her shoulder into Ada's.

"Exactly, trained by a professional to one day take up her mantle." Ada pretended to dust off her shoulders, giving Ginny a cocky smile. "Stick around and you might learn something. Now come on, we're already late."

"Late for what? I didn't know we were going somewhere."

"We're going to Professor Burbage's office for tea."

"The Muggle Studies professor?" Ginny asked, surprised.

"Yeah, it's a really interesting class. At first, I only signed up for it to give my dad a fit, but then we started learning about muggle history and technology, and it's all so fascinating. I think you'll really like her."

Once inside Professor Burbage's office, Ginny was amused to find a strange mix of muggle devices, seemingly assembled at random. Displayed in one corner was a model of the Golden Gate Bridge next to a framed photograph of Winston Churchill, while the opposite wall sported a detailed map of Heathrow Airport with a small British Airways pin tucked alongside. There was even an old rotary phone on the desk that the professor appeared to have been tinkering with.

At tea, Ada and Professor Burbage chatted about some of the muggle things they'd been covering in class, and Ginny found herself drawn into the conversation despite her sour mood. There were so many interesting perspectives that she'd never considered, growing up as a muggle, and she was happy to hear how she and Colin had sparked Ada's interest.

"When I first met Colin -- he's a friend of ours, the one who got petrified last year -- I was surprised that he had a camera. I'd never had my photograph taken before, since father always orders portraits done, so I'd never thought about where cameras came from. Seeing Colin with one made me realize that it was a muggle invention. That got me to wondering how many other inventions were adapted from muggle technology." Ada sipped at her tea, her eyes alight with excitement, "Then I started on my dad about it and asked him if I could go to a muggle library, and he nearly lost it. Couldn't keep me from taking this class though!"

"I'm glad you did, Ada. There is a lot of misinformation about muggles in wizarding society, especially in the older, more insular families. Everyone seems to take things like plumbing or the Hogwarts Express for granted without realizing that they came from muggle technology. It's part of the reason I became a professor," Burbage's explained.

"Are there other reasons you became a professor?" Ginny asked.

Burbage looked at her for a long moment before politely setting down her teacup. "Yes, but there's one main one. It has quite a bit to do with your father, in fact."

Ginny perked up, "My father?"

Burbage nodded. "When I first left school, I got a job at the Ministry in the Muggle Relations Department. My gran was a muggle and always gave me muggle presents when I was a little girl, so I knew a bit more about muggles than most of my fellow students, barring the muggleborns of course. I had strong marks and knew both sides of the coin well enough, so I thought it would be an easy job.

"About a year after I started, my gran passed away from cancer and I was devastated. The department sent out a note about the funeral, but only Arthur Weasley showed up from work. I didn't know him very well at that point, but he was kind and passionate about muggles and all the things we could learn from each other. He made me believe that there could one day be a world where we didn't hide our existence from the muggles, but instead lived in open harmony. I thought he was a bit of a loon then, but he didn't forget about me, and he always found time for everyone except himself."

Ginny had heard kind words about her parents, but very little beyond that. She felt warmed by what Burbage said, proud to know that her parents had supported muggleborns, despite their pureblood heritage. Her throat felt tight, and Ginny nodded for her to continue.

"When _You Know Who_ rose to power," Burbage said, "there was so much misplaced hatred against muggles, so many lies spread to incite fear and anger. Arthur fought it vocally and passionately every step of the way, and when I heard about what happened to your parents… well, I was devastated. I left the Ministry for a time, even thought about chucking it all and moving to America, but then Albus offered me this position. I realized that I couldn't just run away and pretend it never happened, those little kindnesses that Arthur shared would haunt my memories, and I wouldn't be able to forgive myself."

Professor Burbage paused for a moment, fishing out a picture of her and Arthur smiling at a Ministry Christmas party, Molly on his arm and smiling as she leaned heavily against his shoulder. 

"So I told Ablus I would take the job. I thought maybe I could change things -- I could teach students the truth about muggles. If they understood how clever muggles were to live without magic, all of their ingenious solutions and advancements, then maybe students wouldn't see them as so different after all. Maybe I could teach enough people so that this wouldn't happen again."

Once they had finished, Ginny thanked the professor for the tea, feeling something heavy settle inside her. She knew her family had fought Voldemort, but so much of it felt distant and disconnected from who she was. Knowing that her dad had left such an impression -- had changed someone's life, even -- meant more to her than she knew how to describe. Ginny held onto that feeling, tucking it close to her heart, and thought of the smiling man from the photograph. Her father.

"Feeling better?" Ada asked, watching Ginny carefully.

Ginny nodded, afraid to speak, but Ada seemed to understand. She was lucky to have such a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think Ginny will visit the Chamber again? And how is she going to patch things up with Harry?
> 
> Please feel free to list your personal grievances against one (1) frustrating Gryffindor first year below...
> 
> Alright, everyone say it with me now, 'I - hate - Romilda - Vane!'


	7. Paper Love

##  **Paper Love**

_Oh, I know that boy's gonna rip me up_

_'Cause he ain't that nice, he won't do right_

_He'll leave a nasty cut_

_Oh, I cry until I just dissolve_

_Come on watch my heart turn to pulp_

_Like paper (paper-paper)_

_Paper Love_

_(Paper, paper love)_

  * _Allie X, 2017_



* * *

“While the Draught of Living Death is an advanced potion with a difficult set of ingredients, its antidote -- the Awakening Potion -- is much simpler to brew.” Slughorn waved his wand, and a stream of silver letters rose above his cauldron, spelling out the list of ingredients and notes on the potion’s usage.

“We’ll be learning the Awakening Potion at the end of term, but we’ll be working with one of its main ingredients throughout the year: aconite, also known as monkshood.”

Slughorn levitated a bundle of sprigs covered in purple flowers for the class to see, and Ginny jotted down notes as he listed the plant’s properties. Like many things in the wizarding world, the benefits were offset by the dangers; the flowers and roots were useful, but the leaves were toxic and deadly.

“I used to brew Awakening Potions to study for N.E.W.T.s during my Hogwarts days, to stay focused and alert. It prevents the drinker from falling asleep, which is why it’s also called the Wideye Potion. And no, Mr. Mountbatten, that is _not_ a recommended revision strategy!” said Slughorn, and the class laughed as the Ravenclaw lowered his hand. “Now, can anyone tell me another name -- and another use -- for aconite?”

Luna’s hand shot up almost immediately. “Another name is Wolfsbane, used for the Wolfsbane Potion. It allows werewolves to keep their human mind while in wolf form and maintain control, so they’re no longer a danger.”

“Quite right, five points to Ravenclaw,” said Slughorn, and Luna beamed. Ginny caught her eye and smiled, glad that they shared their double Potions slot with Luna.

The Hufflepuffs seemed nice enough, but for most of last year she felt like they were avoiding her, afraid that she was the heir of Slytherin and would petrify them. She was thankful for everything they’d done in tending to the mandrakes, but she hated how they had jumped to blame her when Justin Finch-Fletchley got petrified.

Speaking from the back of the room, Slughorn pointed to one of his old Slug Club photographs, pointing out a young man who cheerily waved at the camera. 

"Wolfsbane was invented by Mr. Damocles Belby nearly two decades ago, earning him an Order of Merlin. An outstanding wizard, and not long ago he was sitting where you sit now. I wonder which one of you will be next! Remember that as you study for next week’s test on Swelling Solutions -- class dismissed."

Once outside, Colin nudged Ginny. "Do you think Professor Slughorn arranged his classes based on what photos he wants to show off?"

"Nah, I bet he changes the photos around so he's always got one to point to -- we should start writing them down to check."

Colin blanched. "Oh, well, you can do that part. I always get nervous when he comes to check the cauldron, I’d get caught. I just hope I can keep it together for the test next week."

Ginny put on a pouty face and gave Colin her best Slughorn impression. "What color is this, Mr. Creevey? It is certainly not the _ochre_ I was talking about."

"Stop, you'll make my hands start sweating! It's not even that good of an impression!" Colin insisted as Ginny laughed. "Plus the worst he's ever said about my potions was that my stirring _could use some work_. I didn't know you could be bad at stirring -- now I always wonder if I’m going too fast or too slow."

Further down the hall, Ginny could just make out the silver of Headmaster Dumbledore's hair and beard as he strolled up a staircase and toward his office. She'd been meaning to tell him about Lucius Malfoy and her second Voldemort dream, and James had asked her to do so. But every time she set out to do it, she would find another excuse not to.

First she didn't want to be late to Charms, then it was because the twins asked if she wanted to practice quidditch with them, and the time after that she wanted to hurry so she could get her favorite seat in the library…

"You should just go talk to him," Colin said, nodding toward Dumbledore. "Otherwise Ada will get mad at me for not pushing you to do it."

"What if I get mad at you for making me go?"

"You can try, but I'm more scared of Ada. I bet she knows all sorts of forbidden magic." Colin stopped and turned to Ginny. "Really though, I think you should talk to him. I always put things like that off, but that's me. Back in muggle school, I forgot my homework once and when I went to turn it in late, I got so nervous that the teacher was going to yell at me that I just turned around and left -- without handing it in! You're different, though. You jump in and figure things out, like you did with the Chamber. Go talk to him."

"Fine," Ginny huffed, but she knew he was right. Everything had gone so wrong over the summer that she simply didn't trust herself anymore. Last year, hadn't she demanded to know why he let her go into foster care? Hadn't she done any number of scarier things since then?

It was time she started getting some answers.

Dumbledore was speaking with the subject of a painting just outside the entrance to his office when Ginny managed to catch up with him. He simply smiled at her and led the way, whispering _'gum drop'_ to the gargoyle statue that hid the spiral staircase.

_'Great,'_ Ginny thought to herself as she followed him up the stairs, _'he probably already talked to James ages ago and has been waiting for me to come and tell him. How else would he know I was coming to talk to him without my saying a word?'_

It was just like Dumbledore to wait and see what she did while knowing about it all along, as if everything was part of some secret test. She sat heavily when offered a seat, feeling rebellious.

If Dumbledore noticed, he showed no sign of it, offering Ginny his tray of sweets. "I suppose I've called this meeting, but it seems I've forgotten what for. Would you mind recalling it to me?"

Ginny caught sight of the sword of Gryffindor mounted on the wall behind Dumbledore’s desk and took heart. It was now or never.

Dumbledore listened quietly as Ginny told him of the night they'd followed Lucius Malfoy and his nameless co-conspirator, waiting until she was finished before asking any questions. He didn't scold her as she'd expected him to, and he didn't seem surprised at all when she mentioned the cloak.

The dream, however, was a different story.

“And this plot, did Voldemort say anything else about it? Who he was targeting, how they would try to infiltrate? Their purpose?”

Ginny shook her head, the memory a jumble of fear and panic and the strange sensations she felt when she was Voldemort -- when she _dreamt_ she was Voldemort. “I don’t remember very much, there was another man and I… Tom hated him, I think. He was involved somehow, too. I thought it had to do with the prophecy.”

Dumbledore thought about that for a moment, twirling the end of his beard around a finger as he did so. “That could be, but he didn’t pursue the prophecy during the last war. And Voldemort was never so singular in his pursuits. He’ll order his Death Eaters to infiltrate every part of the Ministry, from the mundane to the powerful, until they are the only ones left. Do you remember anything else about the man? The one he hated?”

Ginny thought of the way he’d screamed when Voldemort had tortured him, the way his eyes bulged as he gasped for breath, but she couldn’t remember much about his appearance. She shrugged, “Not really. There was a snake, too, but I can’t remember her name.”

“Her name?”

"Voldemort wanted her to do something. I think he was speaking in parselmouth because I could understand it, but the other man couldn’t. Voldemort wanted her to be his replacement for something, and he was really proud of himself for it. I think it was...” 

“The diary. Replaced by the snake…” said Dumbledore, standing as he began to pace.

Ginny watched him warily; _she_ was about to say ‘the diary’, but he’d said it first. She often wondered if he could somehow read her thoughts -- is that what happened before, outside his office? And did he already know she wanted to ask about the memory charm?

“He must've felt it was important to replace the diary quickly," Dumbledore mused, muttering to himself at a rapid pace. "Did it's destruction leave him exposed in some way? But _Lucius Malfoy_? Why entrust something so valuable to him? Unless it was one of many…”

Dumbledore seemed to remember that Ginny was there, turning to her suddenly. “Is there anything else you can recall about what Voldemort did with the snake?”

“Oh! There was another man, a muggle. He… Voldemort murdered him.” Ginny remembered how her scar burned when she’d woken, right as Voldemort cast the spell with the green light, killing the muggle. The same green light she’d seen on the train with the dementors in her memory -- it _had_ to be the curse. The one he’d used to murder her parents.

Then Ginny had an idea. “Could I show you the memory, like they did at the Wizengamot? You could see it all for yourself then.”

“I’m afraid not, but perhaps one day. Extracting the memory for a pensieve is an advanced form of magic that requires prophiency in Occlumency."

Dumbledore put the tip of his wand to his temple, carefully drawing it away as a milky substance followed, like a wisp of smoke. "One must learn to isolate the truth of the memory, devoid of interpretation, otherwise it can become corrupt and unusable, even false." He guided the memory into a small glass vial, which he stowed inside his desk.

"Thank you for coming to me, Ginevra. You’ve given me quite a lot to think about. Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”

She knew it was time to ask him about the Sheltons -- they were even talking about memories -- but Ginny hesitated. Dumbledore was often kind and wise, but he was frightening in other ways. Ginny didn't know how to take measure of him or how much truth was hidden behind his words.

Still, she had to ask him something.

“Can you tell me about the prophecy? Why is Voldemort really after me?” The beating of her heart echoed in her ears as she waited for an answer, and Ginny clenched the armrests of her chair for support.

"It claimed that you would be born with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, and that he would mark you as his rival. So he made it his mission to destroy you."

"That was all?" Ginny asked. She supposed the mark was her scar, but it all seemed too simple to be the full truth. Why was he still hunting her, and why did Lucius Malfoy still want the prophecy? There had to be more.

Was Dumbledore still keeping secrets, even after everything she'd just told him?

"Most of it was used to identify you, clues of who you would be. The full prophecy is stored at the Ministry of Magic, in the Hall of Prophecies at the Department of Mysteries. The prophecies held there are, at their core, memories -- just like those in my pensieve."

The Hall of Prophecies. That's where Lucius Malfoy was so desperate to get, and why he was holding late night meetings in secret. That’s where the truth was being held, her truth.

Ginny thought of the memory Dumbledore had drawn from his mind just moments before. She'd bet anything that he had a memory tucked away somewhere with the exact words of the prophecy. Now that he had what he wanted, he would just continue to string her along.

Maybe it was the certainty with which she believed that she wouldn't get an answer, but Ginny was tired of hiding her frustration. It wasn't like Dumbledore would tell her any more than he wanted anyway, no matter how she asked. So she asked the question that had been burning inside of her all summer.

"What really happened with the Sheltons?" Ginny said without preamble. She thought if he said 'a car crash' she might lose her mind.

"I expected that you might want to ask about that, after Ms. Skeeter's article. I'm sorry to tell you that what she implied is true; the Sheltons weren't killed in an accident, they were murdered by a man named Fenrir Greyback."

"Why?"

"He was a supporter of Voldemort during the first war. I suspect it had to do with revenge, although he's had his own agenda for years."

Ginny looked at him in shock, surprised that he would actually come out and tell her this. "Why… why do I remember a car crash, then? If it was this Fenrir Greyback that killed them?"

Dumbledore heaved a great sigh, opening his desk drawer and fumbling around for a few moments before retrieving another vial. The smoke in this one seemed darker, swirling incessantly as he placed it atop his desk, a few inches from Ginny.

"I'm afraid that's my doing. You are, of course, familiar with memory charms, from Gilderoy Lockhart's exploits?"

Ginny nodded, feeling dumbstruck. Was he really admitting to it?

"After the Sheltons were attacked, I was put in a difficult position. You were just a child and had witnessed a brutal murder. On top of that, someone dangerous had managed to find you for a second time. I couldn't risk…"

Ginny had had enough. "So, what? You just erased my memory and shoved me in an orphanage to deal with later? Nevermind what I want, right? Why am I always the last person to know about things that affect me? Like having magic, having a family, about the prophecy, and about my parents and the Sheltons getting murdered. And why is it always you making decisions for me? When do I get to choose?" Eventually Ginny had nothing left to say, and she stared at Dumbledore, feeling untamed.

"In this case, at least, you did choose." Dumbledore steepled his fingers, nodding to the memory vial, its contents swirling like a storm inside. "I regret the circumstances that necessitated the choice, but such a memory is a heavy burden to bear for one so young, and having already experienced so much misery. It… was not easy."

"I chose? I chose to forget?" Ginny felt weak, her chest filled with a nervous energy.

"The vial contains my own memory of fighting off Greyback and what I found at your home. I must warn you that it is a full memory, it will contain everything that I saw and heard. It… will not be easy.”

Ginny hesitated. She’d seen enough snippets of the memory to have an idea of what happened, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face the entirety of it. She already had what she wanted, didn’t she? The truth?

“You don’t have to choose now, the offer will be there whenever you choose to see it. My intention had been to wait until you were a little older, but of course these things are often beyond our control.”

“Maybe later, right now I… I don’t think...” But Ginny wasn’t sure what to say. If she had already seen parts of her own memory, would this open it up even more? Wouldn’t that just give the dementors more to torment her with?

“I understand,” Dumbledore said, saving Ginny from having to finish. He slid the vial back into the drawer and closed it carefully. “I want you to know that it wasn’t wrong, what you chose, then or now. And none of this was your fault.”

She wasn’t sure that she agreed with him; it was Ginny that Voldemort and this Fenrir Greyback had been after. Did that mean she owed it to the Sheltons to watch the memory, because they had died to protect her? She couldn’t imagine them ever asking that of her.

Selfishly, Ginny wanted to leave the good memories untouched by grief and guilt. Preserved, like a wisp of smoke suspended in delicate glass.

* * *

Ginny breathed in the autumn air, delighting in the breeze that swept across her sweat-dotted skin. Oliver Wood blew his whistle, kicking open the crate of quidditch balls, and tryouts began.

The wind rushed through Ginny's hair as she ducked and dove, intent on the quaffle that Katie and Angelina were racing after. Ginny could feel her spirits lifting, despite Harry's scowl and his angry circling up above.

He had been cold and distant ever since their fight, and, at first, Ginny had blamed herself. She felt responsible for what was happening to James, but it wasn't like she'd started the inquiry.

No, Ginny thought, Harry was still angry about the article, even though he had told her it wasn't her fault. If he wanted to take his anger out on her, that was his problem, and she wasn't going to let herself be bothered by it.

Ginny caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see a bludger pelting toward her. She leaned low against her broom, shooting toward it and doing a corkscrew to spin out of the way at the last moment. The bludger raised the hairs on her skin like an electric shock, and she felt a rush at how close it had come. Maybe she was a little distracted.

"You trying to give me a heart attack, Weasley?" bellowed Wood from the opposite end of the pitch. "Ginny and Katie are on the attack now, and Angelina and Dean on defense. Go!"

He whistled sharply and Ginny sprang into motion, weaving back and forth as she passed the quaffle with Katie. She could always count on flying to take her mind off things, allowing her instincts to take control as she felt her muscles burn with exertion.

Two hours of hard flying later, Ginny was ready to collapse on the pitch, and Wood's final whistle came as a relief. She felt winded, but in a good way. Accomplished. She turned to catch Harry's eye, but he was still brooding, decidedly _not_ looking at her. Right.

She had hoped that quidditch would make Harry feel himself again, but he seemed as stubborn as ever. Ginny was so worked up about Harry that she hardly listened as Wood gave his speech about the importance of hard work and dedication.

She was willing to admit that she had yelled at Harry, but he had gotten her cursed with slugs! It's not like she had snapped at anyone else when Rita wrote about her. It had been really difficult, though. Was she being unfair to Harry, after she’d gone through the same thing?

She stayed behind, hoping that Harry would stay and they would have a chance to talk, but he walked out with Ron as if he'd already forgotten Ginny existed. She was furious with herself for waiting, shouldn't he be the one apologizing to her? He obviously didn’t care as much about fixing this as she did.

Leaning over, Ginny snatched her bag, angrily kicking the rest of her gear into her locker. If Harry wanted to toy with her and play these games, she would just tell him to shove it. She was done making excuses for anyone else.

"Hello, dear apprentice," said George, falling into stride alongside Ginny as she left the changing room.

"What now?" Ginny huffed. "Haven't I had enough to deal with today?"

Fred laughed. "You just played exceptionally well in tryouts! Is there something -- or perhaps _someone_ \-- causing you trouble?"

Ginny shrugged. Talking about whatever had happened with Harry to the twins seemed like a bad choice, they were just as likely to tease her about it as help her.

"Well, we noticed you glaring at Harry during practice, and for most of Oliver's speech. Perhaps a humble prank could set things right?" George offered, slipping a bag of sweets out of his bag, followed by a box filled with a handful of slender wands.

"Are these the new prototypes?" Ginny asked in surprise. She had to admit, they did look remarkably like real wands. Even felt like wands as she ran her fingers over the wood.

"They'll turn into fish or rubber chickens the moment someone tries to cast a spell with them," Fred explained. "The magic triggers an incantation that transfigures the wood, and then, after about a minute, it bursts into confetti and glitter, spelling out the name _'Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes'_ in brilliant gold."

"We've only got a handful of the wands, so use them wisely. Think big crowds." George smirked and waggled his eyebrows, patting the box of wands tenderly. "We've prepared a list of targets for you to start with, but feel free to let inspiration guide your hand. Just remember, it’s all about marketing."

Ginny stowed the pranks in her bag carefully, her mind already whirring with possibilities of who she would seek small vengeances against. Maybe she could slip a wand to Harper Selwyn during a Charms test, or maybe to Romilda before Ginny threw her into the Forbidden Forest...

Looking at the list the twins had given her, Ginny was surprised to see a number of teachers listed, including Professor McGonagall. The twins only laughed when she pointed this out, and Fred added that she could try to get Dumbledore if she was up to it.

_‘It’s a good thing I’ve got the cloak,’_ Ginny thought. And maybe a new challenge was exactly what she needed.

* * *

Ginny stared over the lake, the low clouds covering the valley in blankets of grey as the greens and yellows of autumn stood out brilliantly in the diffuse light. It was easy to get lost in the chaos of Hogwarts without appreciating the quiet moments, and Ginny was happy that she had decided to join Luna for her daily walk.

“I hope the squid is doing well, I haven’t seen him since Tuesday,” Luna mentioned airily, as if checking in on the squid was one of her regular activities. Then again, Ginny supposed it probably was.

“Is there anywhere for him to go? This doesn’t go to the sea, does it?”

Luna shrugged, “He’s a magical squid, so I don’t think that poses any problems. He might be time travelling.”

Ginny nodded. She always took Luna’s declarations with a grain of salt, but she knew that Luna cared deeply for the creatures she spoke of.

Ginny picked up a flat stone, bending over as she flung it across the lake. The stone skipped a few times before splashing into the water with a soft ‘plunk’. Not her best, but still satisfying.

“Oh, that’s a lovely game!” Luna said, picking up a handful of stones. She grabbed her wand from behind her ear and pointed it at the collection of stones, casting _‘spongify’_. Then she threw her own stone in a high arc, which bounced merrily across the waves like a rubber ball on concrete.

“Cheating a bit,” Ginny laughed, doing the same to another stone.

“Is it a competition? I just liked the sound it made,” Luna said hesitantly.

"Not a competition where anyone keeps score," Ginny assured her, tossing a rock of her own that bounded into the distance.

"Oh, that's good," Luna answered. "I'd rather be on your team than play against you, anyway."

Ginny listened as Luna told her about her adventures over the summer, of the creatures she read about and the places she wanted to explore. Despite her quiet demeanor, there was clearly a passion behind Luna's words, and it reminded Ginny of the way Professor Lupin lectured.

"What do you think about Professor Lupin's class?" Ginny asked. 

"I think it will be wonderful. He knows ever so much about hinkypunks, and he's traveled extensively in Ireland. I'll need to remember to ask him if he's seen any kelpies before. I'd like to know what type of bridle they like best."

Luna continued to tell Ginny about a variety of aquatic beasts native to Ireland until they'd finally reached the large doors back to the castle.

“Ahem, Ms. Weasley? Might we have a word?”

Ginny turned to see a group of ghosts led by Nearly Headless Nick, all floating in a huddle behind a suit of armour. “Yes?”

“There is a matter we’d like to discuss with you, or, perhaps, it would be best to say that we’ve a request to make…”

“Goodness sake man!” shouted the Bloody Baron, shooing Nick out of the way as he glided in front of Ginny. “Tell us -- how did you release Myrtle? And can you do it again?”

“Release Myrtle… wait, what do you mean?”

The Baron huffed, “I did say that this would be a waste of time, the girl isn't even aware.”

The Fat Friar waved him away and answered Ginny, “Myrtle hasn’t been seen in her bathroom -- or anywhere -- since you came up from the Chamber of Secrets last year. And trust me, we’ve checked everywhere. She’s simply disappeared.”

“Is that not a normal thing for ghosts to do?” Ginny asked, surprised.

The ghosts all looked quite affronted, including Professor Binns, who seemed to regret coming along at all. He dabbed nervously at his forehead with a handkerchief, despite his lack of sweat. The Bloody Baron, however, was outraged.

"As if becoming a ghost was some flippant choice, like buying a new ruff for the spring season! You're either a ghost forever, or you're not," the Baron said. He turned to his fellow ghosts and shook his fist. "The rest of you can waste your time here, being insulted by some ignorant child. I made my choice and at least _I_ intend to stick with it!"

And then he was gone, his silvery form disappearing into the wall.

"So Myrtle is gone? No trace at all?" Ginny asked. She had thought it strange she wasn't there when she saw the Chamber...

"Why is the Grey Lady not here? The other houses are all represented. Is she coming, too?" Luna asked pointedly.

Nick shook his head, "No, I'm afraid she saw no point in the matter. She claimed there was 'neither vengeance nor forgiveness left for her', if I recall her correctly. But no matter, we've taken it upon yourself to solve this little conundrum. Friar, would you care to explain?"

"Of course," the Fat Friar said, beaming at Ginny and Luna. "We set about bringing a council of ghosts together with all the regulars invited, and we unanimously agreed to hold an election for the creation of a committee to investigate Myrtle's disappearance. After much rigorous work the committee determined that your act of vengeance upon Salazar's evil serpent was what must have released Myrtle from this immortal coil."

"I created a list," Nick interrupted, "and prioritized it in order of contributions to the ghost community. For each ghost on the list, I've memorized their specific cause of death or item of unfinished business, which I'll relay to you momentarily. But first, will you try to help us? Strike our vengeance so that our souls too may rest?"

"You want me to kill people for you?" Ginny asked with surprise.

"No, nothing like that. Just bring them to justice. There is, however, a very large harpsichord that Molière is adamant must be destroyed. Now we understand you'll wish to be compensated, and as ghosts we've had a fair bit of trouble coming up with how to handle that…"

"But won't most of these people be dead already?" Luna pointed out to Nick, "Sir Nicholas, didn't you celebrate your five hundredth deathday last year? I'm sure these people passed away a long time ago."

"We hadn't considered that, though I suppose some of the younger ghosts may still qualify…" muttered Nick, stroking his beard.

"Hasn't anyone tried this before? Why do you think I can do it?"

"What else could it have been? You're supposed to be the Chosen One, maybe you were chosen for this?" And in an undertone, Nick added, "Some of the others are desperate."

"My mum always said it was best not to fret about things you can't control, otherwise there will be no end to it, but I can take down your list," Luna offered.

And then Ginny realized Myrtle's disappearance didn't have to do with the snake at all. Myrtle had disappeared when she stabbed the diary; Ginny had even seen a glimpse of her death, felt something let go.

Destroying the diary had released Myrtle, but what did that mean? She wondered if that meant that all ghosts had something tying them down, like an anchor. But it wasn't Myrtle's diary, it was Tom's.

Ginny knew this had something to do with what Dumbledore had said, but she couldn't place it. It had to be important, though.

Nick had started to dictate his list to Luna, who was taking it down studiously and offering words of condolences for each ghost mentioned. Professor Binns and the Friar were jovially recounting stories of the mentioned ghosts to each other, much to Nick's chagrin as he tried to focus on his list.

"Luna, you don't need to copy them down, I think I've figured it out. It was the diary -- not the snake -- that released Myrtle! I've got to go tell Colin and Ada."

"Well, you can go tell them. I think I'd like to hear the rest of Sir Nicholas's list." She paused, turning to Nick. "That is, if you wouldn't mind?"

"It would be my absolute pleasure, Ms. Lovegood."

Ginny left the entrance hall and nearly ran up the stairs, taking two at a time as she headed for the Gryffindor common room. She finally had a break in her research, she was certain of it, but she wanted to talk to Ada and Colin before she forgot.

Thankfully, she was able to find her friends quickly, and ushered them into a quiet corner of the Common Room.

"Alright, now, what's so important that I needed to stop everything?" Ada asked, her eyes drifting over the last bit of her page before she put her book down.

"Nearly Headless Nick told me that Moaning Myrtle is gone." Ginny's news didn't have quite the effect that she'd been expecting; Colin gave her a puzzled look while Ada started to skim the next page of her book.

"Good riddance, if you ask me," Ada added in an undertone. "Not that important, though, is it? She's probably just haunting some toilet on a different floor."

"No, she's gone, like really gone. None of the other ghosts can find her, they said she’s been released.”

“Released? That can’t be right.”

“Ghosts don’t get released?” asked Colin.

Ginny just shrugged, “Apparently not. They thought it had to do with me killing the snake since it killed Myrtle, but I've got a different idea. What if it's because of the diary?"

Ada stood, beginning to pace, "The diary was destroyed, and Myrtle disappeared. Myrtle was killed by the snake and… Tom, and he made the diary about opening the Chamber. It all feels connected, but… Oh, this is a puzzle. Do you remember anything else that Dumbledore said about it?"

"Not really. He was muttering about the snake and the diary, but I didn't really understand what he was talking about. It seemed really important to him, though."

"The diary releasing Myrtle doesn't make any sense," complained Colin. "He must have killed Myrtle before he made it, right? Shouldn't she be trapped by something that was hers?"

"Ghosts choose to stay," Ada said, shaking her head at Colin. "They aren't forced to become ghosts."

"Well, you said they didn't disappear either, and that's what Myrtle's done, isn't it?" Colin asked.

"That is true. I don't know what to think. Maybe Dumbledore will know…"

"No," Ginny said immediately. At Colin and Ada's exasperated looks, she explained, "I just want a chance to figure out if it's a real lead. He's not going to let me in on it, but if I've got more information, maybe I've got a better shot. I'll go to Dumbledore if I can't find anything."

Ada gave her a significant look, as if to say, _'I'll hold you to that,'_ but ultimately seemed satisfied.

Secretly, Ginny wondered if Harry might know more. He'd been possessed by the diary, too, and for far longer than she had. And she remembered the way his body had looked laying on the floor of the Chamber, Tom drawing his life force from his pale flesh.

If she hadn't stopped it, would Harry have become a ghost, too? Would his spirit have been trapped here until she released him?

Ginny wished she could ask Harry, but of course he was still ignoring her, and she was afraid that bringing up the Chamber again would just set him off. No, she knew she had to fix things with him before she could talk about this.

Thankfully, an opportunity wasn't long in coming.

Invitations for Professor Slughorn's first Slug Club of the year arrived, flitting through the air like little paper cranes, and Ginny's heart soared. Slug Club would be the perfect excuse, she could wait in the common room to talk to Harry, and then they could all go together.

"Oh, I can't wait! Mum will be so proud," Ada smiled, waving her invitation in front of Ginny. "And dad won't be able to ignore this!"

"Of course you got it!" Colin said, looking cheery. "He'd be a certified nutter if he skipped you."

Ada waved him off, but Ginny could tell she was pleased to hear it. "Hey, you're not so bad yourself, I bet you'll be joining us soon enough."

"Oh, I doubt that," Colin laughed. "I'm more like Slughorn myself, making friends with the famous and talented."

"Famous and talented friends?" Ada laughed, "I'd love to meet them sometime."

* * *

Ginny sat quietly as she stared into the depths of the hearth, watching as the flames flickered and changed. It felt fickle, sparking occasionally as a bit of wood crackled, much like her own temper.

_‘Where is Harry,’_ she wondered, her eyes flicking to the stairway up to the boys’ dorms. It was the first Slug Club event of the year and she had been hoping that they could all go together and smooth things over, but it looked like Harry had other plans.

“Hey, are you doing alright?” Ada asked, her voice low.

“I’m doing great, actually,” Ginny lied. “I kept my starting spot on the quidditch team -- Wood posted the roster this morning. And I think you’re right that the diary and Myrtle’s disappearance are connected. I’m going to try to research it in the library, maybe I can find something about ghosts disappearing, it might be just the break I need...”

“Ginny, I meant how are you _feeling_?" Ada interrupted. "You’ve hardly talked about what's going on with Harry. What happened?"

Ginny felt defensive; it wasn’t like Ada had actually asked her about any of that stuff. “Nothing happened, I’m fine. I’ve just... been busy.

“Then why are we just waiting around in the common room?”

“Well…” Ginny started, wringing her hands.

“Look, I know what you’re doing, but either Harry isn’t coming or he already left. Did he say that he would meet you here?”

“He didn’t say specifically…”

But Ada wasn’t going to stand for that, moving in front of Ginny so that she couldn’t look away. “Have you even talked with him since your fight? How was he at quidditch?”

“Well, we play different positions, so we don’t interact much during tryouts…”

“And after? How about in the week since then?”

Ginny shook her head, unable to meet Ada’s gaze.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine,” Ada said. “But don’t lie to yourself. If Harry’s being an idiot, that’s his problem. Don’t make it yours, too. Now come on, let’s get to Slug Club before all the good seats are taken. I don’t want to be sitting next to Blaise Zabani -- or worse -- my brothers.”

True to her word, Ada didn’t push as they walked to the dungeons and Slughorn’s office. Ginny knew that Ada was right, but Harry’s avoidance still bothered her. She still wanted to ask him what he knew about the diary, but mostly she just wanted to talk to him again. Why was he still so upset?

Once they reached the party, Ginny looked for Harry, but he was already seated next to Hermione near the far end of the table. It bothered her that he’d just left without waiting; he _knew_ that she was in Slug Club, too, why was he so intent on ignoring her? Ginny tried not to show her frustration as she took a seat near Slughorn, but she was sure Ada had already picked up on it.

Their seating placement ended up being a blessing in disguise. Slughorn talked about potions with Ada, and she asked about the Wolfsbane Potion, which ultimately led to the topic of werewolves; a topic Ginny had recently become very interested in.

"Perhaps if the potion was more accessible, there would be a good deal less negative stigma about werewolves as a whole," Slughorn finished, drinking heavily from a goblet.

“Professor, have you ever heard of a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback?” Ginny asked, noticing how all the heads within earshot swiveled toward her.

“Greyback?” Slughorn repeated, giving her a dark look. “That's not a name typically associated with polite conversation, my dear. What would you like to know?"

"I don't know… I just heard the name recently, and I want to understand why…" She struggled to find the words, images of the memory resurfacing in shocking clarity.

"I think I understand," Slughorn said, taking care to meet Ginny's eyes. "Greyback might be the most dangerous werewolf alive, and not just because of his viciousness -- although he is known for that. No, the real danger is his ideology."

Slughorn continued, keeping his voice low, "He aims to turn as many people as possible, especially children. That way they can be raised among their own kind and taught to hate wizards. His ultimate goal, it's said, is to build an army loyal to his cause and enact revenge on all wizards."

The conversation soon moved on to other topics, but Ginny couldn't focus on anything being said. Had Greyback wanted to attack her and turn her, so that she could be part of his cause? Had he wanted to raise her as a soldier in his army, to use her like Tom had?

"What's got you interested in Fenrir Greyback," asked a voice from behind Ginny, and she turned to see Harry, something unreadable in his expression.

"Hello to you, too, Harry," Ada said sarcastically, waving in his face.

"How about you tell me why you've been ignoring me instead?" Ginny added, crossing her arms.

Harry looked at her sharply, but she could see the color creeping into his face. "You told me to stop dragging you into my messes, like the Chamber. Isn't this what you wanted?"

"Well, then why are you interrogating me about Greyback?" Ginny snapped back. "What do you care?"

"You know what, forget it, I shouldn't have asked. Come on, Hermione," Harry added, turning toward the door. "Maybe we can still catch a game of exploding snap with Ron."

Ada gave Ginny a pointed look and pushed her in Harry's direction. ' _Go on then,'_ her expression seemed to say.

"Harry, wait," Ginny said, frustrated with herself for losing her temper, and she reached out and touched his arm. Harry stopped but he didn't pull away, his gaze drifting to her fingers.

"I wasn't talking about the Chamber when I was angry with you before, I was just embarrassed about the slugs and I didn't want you to see me like that." She took a deep breath, trying to make him understand. "I don't blame you for the Chamber, that was all Tom. I'm sorry, Harry."

It felt good to admit it, to finally tell him what she's been worrying about for days, like a weight that had been lifted from her soul.

Harry deflated a little and hung his head. "Yeah, and I'm sorry I've been avoiding you. I was just so angry about the article and what's been happening with my dad." Then Harry gave her a lopsided smile, as if that was all it took for them to slip back into place. Maybe it was.

"So, why are you curious about Greyback?" Harry asked, his voice much less accusing than before.

Ginny wasn't ready to tell him the truth yet, at least not here with students still milling about Slughorn's party. "I guess I was just surprised to hear that people like that were on the loose. It seems so dangerous."

Beside her, Ginny felt Ada tense, but she said nothing.

"People ‘ _like that’_?" Harry repeated, his voice incredulous. "You know, one werewolf doesn't represent all of them. They aren't all dangerous like him."

"But they just transform every month, without anyone to make sure that they don't attack someone? And they can't control themselves?"

"Not without the Wolfsbane Potion," Hermione added warily, her eyes watching Harry.

"Isn't it a big risk, then? Any werewolf could change and hurt anyone nearby, it just seems so selfish to hide it…"

"Selfish?" Harry nearly spat. "It's not selfish to want a normal life. Would you rather them all wear a leash and sleep in cages?"

"You know that's not what I'm saying," Ginny hissed, angry that Harry was getting offended. All she was doing was asking a simple question, what was the big deal? "It doesn't seem very safe letting them walk around -- we don't even know who they could be, since they look just like normal people."

"They don’t look _like_ normal people, they _are_ normal people," Harry said, a furious expression crossing his face. He turned to Hermione and gestured toward the door, "Actually, I've had enough for tonight, I'm going to bed."

And then he walked out.

Ginny simply stood there, in shock. How had everything gone so wrong again? And she hadn't even brought up the diary once! Why did Harry think everything she said was some sort of attack against him?

Hermione gave her an uncomfortable look, hesitating as if she wanted to say something, but instead she turned and followed Harry, tucking loose strands of her hair behind her ears.

"Can you believe they just walked out like that?" Ginny asked, gesturing after them. "I was just asking a question. I don't understand what's going on with Harry anymore."

Beside her, Ada cringed and hushed her. "Just follow me. I don't think anyone else heard, but that was pretty bad."

"Right? You saw how Harry was about to throw a fit…"

"Before you say anything else, I need to explain something to you." Ada paced in front of her, having dragged Ginny away from the party and down a side corridor, the sounds of the nearby merriment muffled by thick stone walls.

"I understand why you're asking those questions, but there's a lot more to werewolves than Fenrir Greyback…"

"Sure," Ginny said, waving her away. "All I wanted to know was why…"

"Ginny," Ada said, gripping her shoulders. "Right now, the questions you're asking are the same questions that the Heritage Party ask in their speeches, the same questions that purebloods and people like my super-rich cousins ask. Now, are you going to listen to me or do I have to put you in a body bind again?"

Looking Ada in the eyes, Ginny nodded, shocked into silence.

"Those people want the werewolves registered on a list, but it's not because they care about everyone else's safety. If wizards know who the werewolves are, then it's easier to keep them out of schools and markets and the Ministry. Most people won't hire a werewolf once they know the truth -- I've heard my dad say he wouldn't do it, I've even heard him tell jokes about it.

"To manage their condition, werewolves need a constant supply of Wolfsbane Potion, but it's really expensive and lots of potion sellers don't even stock it," Ada continued, her eyes watching Ginny's.

"So, even if they can afford it, they have to reveal they're a werewolf," Ginny finished, nodding as she felt the heat begin to rise in her neck.

"Exactly. Most people hate werewolves because of Greyback, or others like him, but a lot of the werewolves are just as much victims as anyone else. Some more than others."

Ada paused, her eyes searching the floor for a long while before she spoke again. "I… had a friend once, she got bit a few years ago, and then her mum… her mum told her she was sending her away for treatments. My friend, Razia, said she would write to me every week, but I never even got _one_ letter, and when I went over to ask about it, they told me I wasn't welcome anymore and never to ask about Razia again… I don't know what happened or what they did to her, and no one talks about it..."

Ada was breathing heavily now, trying to hold back her tears. They both sat on the floor, their backs against the cold stone as a chill stole through Ginny, and she wrapped her arms around Ada as she cried, burying her face into Ginny's shoulder.

Despite the cold, Ginny's skin burned with shame. Now she understood the expression of shock and betrayal on Harry's face, and why Ada had flinched at her questions. She thought of how she'd felt when she learned about the way squibs and half giants were treated by wizards. Centaurs and goblins and house elves, too.

Ginny thought of Hagrid telling her about how hard it had been to find a good job -- one a wizard would want -- and how quickly the Ministry had been to suspect him when students were attacked. She thought of how Filch was ridiculed and teased for not being able to do magic, and how Kreacher was treated by the Black family. Even the way Sirius spoke to him made her uncomfortable.

She felt a sinking sensation in her stomach, and Ginny took a shuddering breath. When was she ever going to learn her lesson? How many mistakes did she have to make before she finally understood?

So she held onto Ada tightly and promised that next time she would be better. She had to be.


	8. Till It Kills Me

##  **Till It Kills Me**

_You wanna say yes_

_To every liar in the dark to everyone with a heart_

_Not everyone's heart is gold_

_You trust every spark that ever strayed from a fire_

_Born maybe from your desire to save everyone_

_You can't save everyone_

_Who ever loved God_

_For all the things they are not_

_It is bizarre that we're taught to hate ourselves for our flaws_

_And now you are caught_

_You are obsessed with the light don't understand why inside_

_You can't expel all the dark_

_You are made of the dark_

  * _Montaigne, 2016_



* * *

The library was quiet, empty but for Madam Pince, who was shelving a large collection of volumes with the utmost of care. Ginny found a seat with good light, away from some of the dustier sections, and waited for Hermione.

Would she still be willing to help after the argument at Slug Club last night? Or would Hermione think Ginny was some sort of bigot and not want to have anything to do with her?

Ginny was certain she could explain herself, if given the chance. She didn’t really know anything about werewolves and what it meant to be one, and how could she? Maybe that was the point after all. Maybe if she’d bothered to learn about them first she wouldn’t have put her foot in her mouth. Hermione would still understand, wouldn’t she?

While she waited, Ginny began to sort through all the books she could find on ghosts, but it was slow going. So many of them appeared to be memoirs of forgotten witches and wizards, written as posthumous autobiographies, and very little of it appeared to be about ghosts themselves. She had nearly lost all hope of finding anything useful when Hermione arrived.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to show up, after last night,” Ginny said, gesturing to a seat next to her. “But I’m really glad you did.”

“Show up for what?”

“To help me with my research on ghosts? You said to meet you here after breakfast?”

“I did?” Hermione set her own books down in a pile on the table and took a seat beside Ginny, looking confused. Her fingers idly brushed a gold chain around her neck, and she seemed to remember. “Oh, yes, of course, I remember. It was about a ghost disappearing?”

“Moaning Myrtle. She’s not in the bathroom anymore.” Ginny explained. She told Hermione about her conversation with Nearly Headless Nick and the other ghosts, and about what she’d seen when the diary was destroyed.

“I think it has to do with whatever dark magic Voldemort used to create the diary, but there isn’t anything I can find about ghosts disappearing. It’s just another dead end.”

“You wouldn’t have found anything in the student library, not if it’s dark magic.” Hermione gestured toward the Restricted Section at the back, the shelves chained off with far more signage than seemed strictly necessary. “If something like that _is_ here, it’s got to be in the Restricted Section. The problem is you can’t just get any book from there, you’ll need permission from a Professor.”

“Permission?”

“And it has to be for a specific book, too. Students aren’t allowed to browse the Restricted Section. I've already asked Professor McGonagall, there are no exceptions.”

“Of course there aren’t,” Ginny sighed in frustration.

Couldn’t things just go easily for once? How was she supposed to convince a professor to give her permission for a specific book when she didn’t even know what the book was called -- or what she was really looking for?

“If you think it's dark magic, you could try with Professor Lupin. And Professor Slughorn might know someone who researches ghosts,” offered Hermione.

Now there was a thought. Professor Slughorn had always offered to help, and Lily had trusted his advice about joining the Potions Association, maybe Ginny could trust him with this?

Out in the hallway, a large grandfather clock chimed the hour, and Ginny quickly began to gather her things.

“Oh, that’s me. Thanks, Hermione, I think I’ll talk to Professor Slughorn about it.” 

Once she was ready to go, Ginny hesitated. “Do you know if Harry is still mad about what I said last night?”

Hermione gave her a sheepish look, fiddling with her hands as she tried to answer. “Well, I think he’s just a bit stressed right now, with the article and everything. It might be a bit personal for him -- he told me that his mum used to do research for werewolves.”

Of course, how could she have forgotten Lily's potions research? And their funding had been cut, too, effectively abandoning werewolves to bear the curse as best they could, alone. Ginny's face felt warm with the memory; what would Lily say if she'd heard?

"I'm sure Harry knows what you meant. He gets into these moods sometimes, but he'll come around. You know how stubborn boys are," Hermione tried, but it came out hollow.

Ginny thanked Hermione for her help and set off for her Transfiguration lesson in a hurry, thoughts of the Restricted Section still swirling in her mind.

If she came down with the cloak and the map, Ginny would be invisible and know if anyone was coming, but she quickly rejected the thought. She didn't even know where to start looking, and she couldn't be spending weeks or months trying to sneak into the library and read in the middle of the night.

Besides, Ginny had a much greater appreciation for how dangerous books with dark magic could be.

No, it was a much better bet to talk to Slughorn. Maybe he would know some professional ghost researcher, or have a signed almanac of cursed and haunted books that Ginny could borrow.

Thinking of Slughorn's prized collections, Ginny had an idea. She could bring him something from the Chamber! Hadn't he said how rare and expensive basilisk venom was as a potions ingredient? But would the snake still be down there? No one had done anything about the Chamber, so it was at least worth checking, though the thought of venturing down there again filled her with a cold sense of dread.

But why should it? What could be down there now that the snake was dead and Tom's diary was destroyed?

There was only one way to find out, and she would need all of her nerve to face it again.

Up ahead, Ginny saw a staircase start to move and set off at a jog. If she missed this one, she'd have to take the long way around and up a flight of stairs, only to double back again on the other side of the corridor. Sometimes magic could be so impractical, it really didn't make any…

"Oof!"

Ginny stumbled, catching herself before falling, but sending a younger student sprawling as he'd rounded the corner at a run.

"Oh, gosh, it's you! I'm so sorry, Ginny Weasley, I… I…" spluttered Dennis Creevey, hurrying to arrange the books he'd knocked from her hands, mixing his own books up in the process, all the while a group of first years laughed from behind him.

"Well, if it isn't Ginny Weasley, the Girl Who Lied. Making friends with Clumsy Creevey? I guess you're going for the set," said Romilda Vane, wearing a cheeky smile that Ginny wanted to wipe off her face.

"Do you see what I'm talking about?" Romilda asked her friends, gesturing at Dennis as he struggled to pick up all the books at once. "How am I supposed to do well in potions with _him_ for a partner? He's a muggleborn and practically a squib, and he can't tell a bat's wing from a…"

Hearing squib used like that, and by Romilda of all people, Ginny felt her blood burn with anger. Without really thinking about it, she pulled her wand from her robes in a fluid motion and hit Romilda square in the face with a bat-bogey hex.

Romilda screamed in indignation, turning before Ginny could see the first winged bogey emerge from her nostrils, and fled as her friends tried to knock the circling bat-bogeys from the air with their textbooks. "I'll be telling Professor McGonagall!" Romilda managed to shout from down the hallway.

"Good!" Ginny shouted back. "It was one of my best ones yet, but I can't take credit for the size of those bogeys, that's all you!"

Dennis handed Ginny her books, following alongside her in barely restrained awe. "Wow! I didn't think I'd be saved by you so early in my time at Hogwarts, it's still my first semester!"

"You expected to be saved by me?" Ginny asked, amused.

"Well, Colin's stories about Hogwarts did sound pretty dangerous, I figured it was bound to happen sooner or later, since we're in the same house now! Oh, and I forgot to say thank you. For helping with Romilda, I mean."

Ginny smiled, thinking of the look of surprise on Romilda's face when she realized she'd just been hexed. "Honestly, Dennis? I think that was exactly what I needed."

* * *

_'Open.'_

Ginny mounted her broom, riding into the tunnel and closing the Chamber behind her with a word. Light from her wand reflected off the damp stone around her like a gloomy halo, fading into the distance as the tunnel extended far below the school. She breathed deeply and tried to settle her anxious nerves, but the stale air only brought on a fit of coughing that echoed into the depths.

Colin and Ada hadn't agreed with Ginny's plan, but they weren't willing to stop her from coming either, so here she was, alone in the dark. She had brought her cloak and the Marauders' Map, for all the good it did her. Once she'd entered the Chamber, her dot had vanished.

She glided along the halls, watching the shadows as they danced to the flickering green flames. The little pools of light offered no heat, even when the braziers grew in size as she neared the center, and Ginny regretted not bringing a warmer cloak.

When she reached them, the great doors to the inner chamber opened silently at her command, and even the sounds of running water faded as Ginny climbed over fallen stone to reach the center.

The basilisk was still there, with all remaining fangs intact, but it was now a skeleton, picked clean by scavengers. And Salazar's statue had been crushed beneath falling rocks, or perhaps destroyed by the basilisk's frantic thrashing. All was still and quiet as she'd left it, a moment frozen in time.

She could break off a fang and bring it back to Slughorn, but seeing the snake in the Chamber would be much more impressive, wouldn't it? Maybe enough to get her browsing access to the Restricted Section, or at least an idea of where to look. Besides that, the fangs looked rather sharp and were filled with deadly poison, and she was conscious of the absence of Fawkes's healing tears.

Ginny stared at the scene for a long while, fascinated by the quiet chaos that had reshaped the Chamber. The memory of this place had haunted her, but everything had been changed.

Wiped clean.

The evidence was still there, of course, but it was not the gruesome scene from before. Here, Ginny was surprised to find herself at peace. The ruin around her was a testament to Slytherin's failure, his serpent dead in the middle of his broken secret, to which she held the key.

How had she ever been afraid to come back here?

There was something beautiful in the silent bones around her, ghostly pale amid the green light, but it did raise a question. If the body had been picked clean, that meant other animals and insects could get inside. Did it mean that there was another way out?

Ginny looked around her, seeing four main tunnels that led away from the central chamber. The largest tunnel ran a short distance before it splintered into dozens of smaller tunnels and pipes and plumbing, all snaking their way back toward the school. Another tunnel appeared to run opposite the direction she had come from, sloping down and away as the water trickled into little rivulets that ran along the walls.

This tunnel was just as wide as the one she'd entered, and nearly twice as long. At least, it certainly felt that way. The soft sounds of water grew as she reached the end, and Ginny found a large stone basin with a hole in the bottom, spilling down into a small stream that ran parallel to the tunnel’s exit. The sides of the basin were covered in ancient-looking runes, carved deep into the stone, and the water that passed over them ran clear.

The tunnel itself exited onto a lush expanse of Scottish countryside, and Ginny blinked at the sudden brightness. Hogwarts was still visible, but it sat far above her and at a good distance. Surrounding her were jagged cliffs, green and verdant like some mossy landslide had rolled over them. The valley stretched outward from where she stood, sloping down toward distant lakes and hills on one side, and up toward an old forest, wild with growth, on the other.

Across from Ginny sat a small pool, fed by a stream as it cascaded down the rockface. Bathed in grey light from an overcast sky, the scene felt surreal in its contrast to the Chamber, and she wondered who else had found this place. It certainly didn't look like the sort of place that Salazar Slytherin would seek out, especially after the silent malevolence of the Chamber's dark halls.

Ginny checked the Marauders’ Map, tracing the outer edges until she found her own name, hovering near the very edge. She made for the forest, tracing her steps on the map until she could sense a vibrating energy, like a sort of ward, delineating one side from the other. The Potters had spoken of the school’s protections before, was this the edge of that barrier? Would something happen to her if she tried to pass through? And if she went out, could she get back in?

Back down the valley, and away from the forest, Ginny could see dark clouds on the horizon, heavy with rain. They were a long way off, but she had lingered too long, and her friends might be worried. Besides, there was Mad-Eye to think of; there was no telling what he would do if he was sent to hobble into the forest to find her again.

With a final look, Ginny headed back for the Chamber, feeling something strange settle in her chest. Ever since her Hogwarts letter, the magical world had been something foreign to her, something separate. But now this was her secret, a part of Hogwarts that was unique to her alone.

How many heirs of Slytherin had explored the tunnels below the school? How many had found the hidden valley at the far end? Tom had been one of them, Ginny was almost sure of it. The way he’d boasted in the diary and her dreams, and the things Dumbledore had said about him all pointed to that simple truth. Had he planned Myrtle Warren’s murder down here? Had he hidden in the Chamber, head bent over the diary as he filled it with the darkness in his soul?

Ginny shivered involuntarily, but the sight of the broken statue in the central chamber bolstered her resolve. There was one more tunnel, a passage really, that she hadn’t tried yet. The walls were lit by a row of torches, each glowing with the same green flames found throughout the Chamber, and the passage led to a heavy stone door at the far end. It had no handle.

Ginny spoke in parseltongue and the door opened to her, leading into darkness. Lamps jumped to life, revealing a grand staircase and row upon row of bookcases. An ornate inscription stood above the staircase, proclaiming it _'The Athenaeum of Forbidden Knowledge.'_

A pretentious name, but Salazar had also named the Chamber, so it was hardly surprising.

Ginny stared at the books below, jammed into row upon row of shelves. It wasn't difficult to guess what type of forbidden knowledge Salazar and his descendents had kept for private study. A young Tom Riddle would have used this library. Could Ginny retrace his steps to find whatever dark magic he used to make the diary?

"Riddle? Boy, is that you?" called a voice from deeper within the library, somewhere on the lower level. "It has been so very long…"

Ginny turned and bolted from the room, nearly tripping over fallen rubble as she rounded the corner and hopped onto her broom. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, and Ginny did everything she could to keep pace with it as she leaned hard into flight. 

Once she reached the last tunnel that led back to the bathroom entrance, Ginny managed to calm herself and begin to think rationally. It couldn't be a person down there, not really. How could they possibly survive down there?

The voice had called her Tom, so it must not know of who he became. And if the last person it spoke with was Tom Riddle, it had to be at least fifty years since anyone had opened the Chamber. Could it be a ghost? Maybe someone else Tom had murdered, like Myrtle, or the muggle from Ginny's dream. And a ghost couldn't hurt her, could it?

Ginny closed the passage to the Chamber and released a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Ada and Colin would be shocked to hear everything that she'd learned, but there was that elusive sense of peace that Ginny had experienced amidst the bones and dust.

Would the place still be hers if she told its secrets? Or would her friends warn her against going back if they knew the truth?

If Ginny was sure of anything from her discoveries today, it was that she needed to go back to the Athenaeum, so it would need to stay a secret. At least for now. Her plan to convince Professor Slughorn to give her permission to browse the Restricted Section felt rather silly now, by comparison. If Tom had left any clues about the diary, they wouldn't be in the Hogwarts Library, they would be hidden below, where he felt safe and superior.

But if Tom thought he was the only one who knew Slytherin's secrets, he would be sorely mistaken. And that's what Ginny was counting on.

* * *

The quidditch pitch was dark and then illuminated in turn as lightning flashed far above. Ginny swerved and dove, her eyes searching for any sign of a bludger or one of Slytherin's chasers. It was the first match of the year, and against Slytherin -- a must-win for Gryffindor.

Heavy raindrops began to fall from the thick grey canopy, splashing incessantly on Ginny's head and shoulders. How could Harry even see the snitch in this weather?

An opening emerged, and Ginny took it, darting forward and below Marcus Flint as she headed for the goal. Katie Bell passed the quaffle and Ginny managed to keep hold of it, feinting hard before slinging it across her body and through the far goalpost.

A loud chime sounded, and Gryffindor moved another ten points ahead, now leading Slytherin by almost eighty. Ginny whooped and pulled her broom up hard, corkscrewing into the air in celebration. The crowd roared from below, and Ginny surged with pride.

But above her, the clouds shifted and parted, moving swiftly like the boiling smoke of a cauldron. Entranced by the spectacle, Ginny watched as black shapes began to form from the billowing darkness.

Cold fear crept up her spine, curling in her belly and spreading like a disease. She couldn't move or think -- dementors… and so many of them, too.

Ginny gasped for air but her lungs were empty, the weight of despair crushing her chest and her frantic heart, and then she was falling… falling...

Lightning flashed, the vibrant whites and blues twisting into a brilliant green, and the scream from Ginny's memory tore through her mind like a chorus of voices, filling her ears until she was sure they would burst.

And then Ginny remembered no more.

* * *

Ginny became aware of bright lights above her, and she forcefully kept her eyes shut, her head aching. The sounds of agitated whispers drifted around her, frustrating her efforts to keep the waking world at bay. Where was she, and who was she with? What happened?

Ginny snuck one eye open, keeping her movements as small as possible to avoid detection. She could see Fred out of the corner of her eye, his arms crossed as he nodded at something George was saying, barely-restrained fury emanating from his posture. On further inspection, it appeared that the whole team was there, other than Oliver Wood.

Right, the quidditch match. Had they lost? The last thing that Ginny could remember was scoring a goal past Miles Bletchley -- was she injured? She was hurting everywhere, especially her head, was it her fault that they had lost?

It was starting to come back to her; the flashes of lightning and dark clouds, billowing like smoke. And it had been so very cold, cold as ice in her veins when the dementors…

Ginny sat bolt upright, immediately regretting it as the dull throbbing in her head multiplied. The dementors had attacked her, and she was trying to escape when she heard the scream and saw the flashing lights, and then she was falling…

"Ginny's awake!" Ron shouted from beside her, leaning into her field of view. "Are you alright? When you fell…"

"... I can't believe the dementors attacked like that, Dumbledore was furious…"

"... You fell and I thought it was over, if Dumbledore hadn't managed to slow your fall at the last second…"

Ginny held up a hand, trying to make sense of the rush of voices all around her. "What about the match?"

"After you fell, everyone in the stands were screaming and yelling about the dementors," Katie answered. "Madam Hooch blew her whistle, but no one heard it, and Slytherin kept playing. Lucian Bole smashed a bludger at Angelina's back when she flew down to check on you, and now she's resting in the bed over there."

"When they attacked Angelina, we all started a fight," George said, brimming with excited energy. "Ron gave Montague a black eye and Fred cursed Bletchley. His tongue grew so big that someone else had to carry it for him when he came to the hospital wing. Malfoy nabbed the snitch after you fell and Slytherin's saying they won, but Wood is going to have it appealed."

"Will there be a rematch?" Ginny asked.

"Maybe," Harry shrugged. "But hopefully not for a while, we all got detention for a week because of the fight."

Harry was speaking to her again? That was a welcome change. Maybe Hermione had talked to him... "So, who did you hex to warrant a detention?"

"I disarmed Malfoy and got him with an itching hex, but Madam Hooch disarmed me right after. I did get to punch Pucey, though, so it was worth it." Harry lifted his bandaged hand in explanation.

"Knowing Pucey, a punch to the face was probably an improvement," Ginny laughed, clenching slightly when the sharp throb in her head returned. "Oh, did anyone grab my broom?"

The whole team went quiet.

“Erm… about that.” Ron lifted a basket that held the broken remains of a broom, most of it cracked into twigs and wood chips smaller than her thumb. “When you fell, the storm blew it into the Whomping Willow…”

It was hardly recognizable as her broom at this point, though she could pick out little bits of the Nimbus logo. She had spent so many hours on that broom, learning how it handled, perfecting her turns and twists. And now it was gone, just like that.

James wouldn’t get mad at her, would he? It wasn’t her fault that dementors had swarmed the pitch; if only she knew that spell that chased them off, like Professor Lupin had used on the train.

There was a frustrated shushing sound and Madam Pomfrey arrived, shooing the team away from her bed. "That's enough visiting, now she needs her rest, go on. You can come back in the morning."

Once they’d left, Madam Pomfrey gave her a potion and a bit of chocolate, and insisted that she get some sleep. Ginny ate the chocolate, hardly enjoying it out of spite. In truth, she was afraid to go to sleep. Would she dream of the dementors tonight?

But the potion must have started working, because Ginny could barely keep her eyes open, wistful thoughts of her poor, broken broom flitting through her head.

Without the broom, Ginny couldn’t go back into the Chamber, which meant she couldn’t explore the Athenaeum. To be honest, it was all a bit of a relief.

Who was the voice that had spoken to her in the library? How long had they been in that cold room deep below the school, waiting?

It had called her Tom.

Ginny pushed the thoughts of Tom and dementors and the Chamber from her mind, they could wait for morning. She yawned, bunching her pillow as she turned into the bed, and remembered how Harry was talking and joking with her again.

Maybe things weren’t so bad, after all.

* * *

It was pitch black when Ginny woke, her eyelids heavy with sleep as the last of the potion wore off. She breathed a deep sigh, her vision slowly adjusting to the low light. The potion had given her dreamless sleep, but now all the doubts and frustrations came roaring back.

Had the quidditch match been her fault? Could she have avoided this somehow?

No, of course not. It wasn’t her fault that the dementors showed up and attacked her, what was she supposed to do about it? She was only a second year.

But Professor Lupin knew how to handle the dementors, he’d chased them away on the train. Maybe he would be willing to teach her the spell. It _was_ Defense Against the Dark Arts, after all. 

Luna had said it was advanced magic, so Ginny would have to work hard at it, but that was fine. Without her broom, she wouldn’t be able to explore the Athenaeum anyway. And the Restricted Section was hardly a lead compared to Slytherin’s secret library, so what else was there to do?

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught Ginny’s attention, and she turned to hear the creak of the door as it bumped closed. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, had someone come in? Was she still alone?

Ginny thought of the voice from below that had asked for Tom. What if she’d awakened something? What if it had been released, now that she’d opened the door?

She slowly snaked her hand out from under the covers, quietly picking her wand up with as little movement as possible. _There_ , another sound, scuffing along the Hospital Wing floor. Ginny waited until the sound was nearly beside her bed, though she could see nothing, and threw her covers forward to whip out her wand.

“Woah!” came a voice from beside her, and something seemed to stumble back into the bed next to hers, the curtains yanking to the side. A thin, silvery substance drifted and pooled along the floor, and as it slipped to the ground revealed Harry beneath it.

Of course, the invisibility cloak!

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know that was you,” Ginny whispered, hurrying to fix the curtains and cause as little noise as possible. Thankfully, they were alone, though Madam Pomfrey had an eerie habit of catching unannounced visitors.

“I thought you were asleep,” Harry explained, “I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you.”

Once it became clear that Madam Pomfrey wasn’t coming to check the disturbance, Ginny relaxed back into bed, and Harry pulled a chair alongside.

“Feeling any better?”

“I suppose,” Ginny lied, doing her best to keep her excitement in check. Harry had sought her out after practically ignoring her for weeks on end. This _had_ to be a good sign.

“It’s too bad about your broom, but I bet dad will get you a new one in no time.”

Ginny nodded, brimming with hope. Harry had snuck down here, for her. “How did you get the invisibility cloak? It was hidden in my room.”

Harry blushed. “I overheard Ada and Colin planning to sneak down here and I made her give me the cloak first. I’m supposed to bring it back, or else she’s going to hex me.”

“Well, it is _your_ cloak,” Ginny admitted, "it only seems fair."

"See, that's what I told her! But the look she gave me after I took the cloak is going to haunt my nightmares."

After their laughter died away, they sat in silence, Harry's expression turning more and more concerned. What had he come down to say to her? Was he having second thoughts about it?

It was enough to drive Ginny mad, but if she said anything too soon she was likely to spook him. Was he working up the courage to confront her about Slughorn's party?

“I’m sorry!” Harry nearly blurted.

“Sorry about what… ?”

“I’ve been a right git, ever since Rita’s article. I was so worried when you fell, I thought maybe… well, I thought a lot about how angry I’ve been.”

Harry paused, watching his idle hands as he fiddled with the cloak. They were so close that she was certain she could reach out and hold his hand, but she was afraid of what he might think, and the moment passed.

“Ever since last year, I’ve felt so _empty_ . It's not an excuse for how rude I've been, but I keep wondering, what if I…" he paused, as if admitting his fears would make them true, and when he spoke again, his voice was heavy. "What if there was part of me trapped inside the book, a part that was destroyed? What if _Tom_ took up so much space that I can’t fill it anymore? I feel so angry all the time now, angry like Tom was.”

This time, Ginny did reach for his hand, squeezing it tightly to reassure him. Harry blushed, but he kept his hand in hers.

"Everybody gets angry, Harry. He isn't in control of you, not anymore."

"I wonder sometimes." Harry sighed and stood up, stuffing his hands back in his pockets. "I'm sorry I was ignoring you, I told myself I was just really busy, but I just wasn't ready to admit I was wrong. I… actually did get a detention for fighting Malfoy, right after you told me not to. I bet mum's going to send a howler when she hears that I fought at the match, too. I hope it doesn't come during breakfast."

Ginny didn't know what a howler was, but she didn't care. Things with Harry were finally on the right track and she wasn't going to let it get away from her again. Ginny thought of the Chamber deep below, Harry's lifeless form sprawled in front of the diary like some sort of cruel sacrifice. She owed it to him to find Tom's secret and keep him safe.

“Well," Harry said, "I’d better go and give Ada the cloak before she comes looking for me.”

“Would you stay a little longer?” Ginny asked, choosing boldness and ignoring the hot flush that crept up her neck.

Harry smiled and sat down again, edging the chair closer to her bed. “Of course.”

* * *

Ginny woke again, this time feeling refreshed and recovered, although she nearly jumped when she saw Harry slumped on the side of her bed, asleep in the chair.

A surge of warmth coursed through Ginny; Harry spent the night beside her, that _had_ to mean something. And now he was breathing so quietly, Ginny was sure she could reach out and stroke his head if she wanted to. Although, that would be strange, wouldn't it?

Down the hall a door opened, followed by the sound of footsteps coming closer. Ginny reached over to nudge Harry, waking him carefully to keep him quiet. She couldn't let him get in trouble after she'd asked him to stay.

"Pomfrey is coming, do you have your cloak?"

"My what?" Harry asked, surprised to see Ginny. "Why am I…?" But then he seemed to realize what had happened and spun toward the door.

Harry ducked his head down just in time, whipping the cloak over his body as Madam Pomfrey opened the large double doors. He whispered a strained goodbye and nearly tripped over the chair as he managed to sneak away, invisible.

"You're looking well this morning," Madam Pomfrey said once she'd examined Ginny, giving her a kind smile and a glass of water. "You Weasleys always seem to bounce back as good as new. Why don't you head down to the Great Hall and have some breakfast?"

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey." Ginny was getting rather hungry, and she hadn't eaten anything other than the few bites of chocolate from last night.

"And take it easy for the next few days, nothing too strenuous. That means no quidditch, you have us all quite a scare."

"You won't have to worry about that," came Ron's voice as he slipped into the Hospital Wing. He was carrying a large tray piled down with food. "McGonagall says we're banned from the pitch for two weeks after last night's fight."

"Thank heavens," Madam Pomfrey answered, walking back the way she'd come. "Perhaps I'll even get a day off this week."

“I brought you breakfast,” Ron said unnecessarily, laying the tray out on the bed.

“I’m actually free to go now. Do you want to walk down to the Great Hall?”

Ron shrugged, looking a little put out. “I guess so.” He scratched behind his ear, turning to look at the door. “Do you think we could talk for a bit first? I put a warming spell on everything, so the tray should still be good.”

Together they began to pick apart the tray of breakfast as Ron gave her the play-by-play of the fight with Slytherin. When he'd finished, he simply shook his head. “I was so afraid when you fell, we all watched it happen. There were so many dementors swarming around you that we couldn’t see you until Dumbledore chased them off, and you’d nearly hit the ground at that point. I thought I’d just lost you, too. I know it’s stupid but…”

“It’s not stupid, it’s really sweet.”

“Ew, gross. Don’t go around telling people, I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

"Fine, but my silence is going to cost you."

"Blackmailing your own brother?" Ron shot back. "Merlin's bum, Ginny, do I at least get a discount?"

"Sorry, brothers pay double," Ginny said around a mouthful of food.

Ron laughed, "I guess that's just as well. I won't be needing my Hogsmeade money now."

"Why not? You aren’t going to go? I thought you were excited for it!"

Ron shrugged, “Oh I don’t know, I'll probably just skip it. Harry’s got detention so he can’t go. It would just be Hermione and me, so she probably wants to skip it. I don’t even know what I’d say to her, alone.”

“But you talk to Hermione all the time!” Ginny pointed out. “Just say the same things you would normally say. Why don’t you just ask her if she wants to go with you?”

“Like, on a date?” Ron asked, taken aback. “Oh, I don’t think I’m ready to do that.”

“You don’t have to call it a date, just see if she still wants to go.”

Ron shrugged and shook his head. “Maybe I would’ve been better at this stuff if we’d grown up together. I’m rubbish at talking to girls. I’ll just look like an idiot, Hermione is so much smarter than me.”

“Says the chess genius!” Ginny reminded him.

But Ron just waved that away. “Chess is different, it just comes easy to me. And it’s not just that Hermione is smart, she's good at everything! I don’t understand how she even gets it all done. She’s always running off to another class, but she's in all the same classes as me, too. Every time I ask her about it she just says I don’t really want to know or I’ll find it boring, but that’s never stopped her before.”

“Ada takes Advanced Potions with McGonagall’s permission, maybe it’s like that with Hermione, too?”

“Maybe,” Ron shrugged, “she does go to see Professor McGonagall a lot. Do you think she doesn’t want to talk about it because she thinks I’ll tease her about getting special treatment? I bet that’s exactly what she thinks.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I probably would tease her about it, too.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, you’re making my job too easy for me," Ginny prodded.

Ron smiled, but it came nowhere near his eyes. He pulled out his wand, the one that shared a core with Ginny’s, and held it up to her.

“It's not just that. I can’t even master using this wand, I think I’m getting worse at magic. I’ve been having trouble with new spells all year, is that how it was with yours, at first?”

“I’ve never had a different wand,” Ginny admitted, picking up her own and holding it out to Ron.

“Do you think it’s too powerful for me? Maybe it can tell that I’m weak.”

“Or maybe it’s like flying a broom, you just need to believe that you can do it," Ginny suggested. "You just need to be confident. Doesn’t Hermione have a hard time flying a broom?”

“She’s getting better, I know she could do it if she just trusted herself,” Ron said, quick to jump to her defense.

“Exactly. And you just need to trust yourself. The wand made sparks when you tried it, didn’t it? That means the wand chose you.”

“But what if it made a mistake in choosing me? Wouldn’t it be better in the hands of someone more powerful?”

Ginny shook her head adamantly and leaned in close to Ron, telling him of the first feather that Fawkes had given, and in whose wand it now resided.

“Trust me," Ginny insisted, "I’d much rather the wand be in the hands of someone good than someone powerful.”


	9. Control

##  **Control**

_I'm bigger than my body_

_I'm colder than this home_

_I'm meaner than my demons_

_I'm bigger than these bones_

_And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"_

_I can't help this awful energy_

_God damn right, you should be scared of me_

_Who is in control?_

  * _Halsey, 2015_



* * *

Near the pumpkin patch, Ginny relaxed with Colin and Ada, her arm draped over her forehead to block the sunlight that broke through the trees. It was a warm day for early November, an opportunity to drink in the last rays of sunshine before winter came, and Ginny was restless to get out, even if she had to bundle up to do it.

Far better than the frigid darkness of the Chamber, though Ginny could postpone going back down there, at least until she got a new broom.

Beside her, Ada made a frustrated sound and flipped her book closed. “I can’t believe this Muggle Studies class is becoming my hardest subject! How did you two ever deal with it at muggle school? I can’t grasp this telly-phony device -- it doesn’t make any sense!”

Colin laughed, “This might be the first time that I’ve known something that you don't.”

“Can you explain to me how they transfigure sounds into eclecticity? And who ties all the wires from one telly-phony to the other? Couldn’t there be dozens of wires, one to every person you’d want to call?”

“If you tell her, she’ll just know everything again!” Ginny cautioned, rolling out of the way as Ada swatted at her.

“See how much help you’ll get on that potions essay you’ve been complaining about,” Ada said. “I’ve got mine from last year, I bet someone else would like to see it…”

“Fine, you bully,” Ginny said. “It’s like the floo network. Everyone's only got one fireplace, but you can still go to any other fireplace on the floo. At least, I think that’s how it works?”

Colin nodded, “My grandmum was a telephone switchboard operator before she got married. Her boss fired her because she used to be chatty with everyone who rang the operator. But that’s how she met my grandad, so it all worked out.”

“Imagine that, a chatty Creevey,” Ada joked.

Colin just waved her off. "They used to have to switch the cords and plugs by hand, but now it's all automatic.”

“So you just pick up on your side and put a number into it, and somehow it connects to the other person? But without magic?” Ada sounded incredulous.

Ginny wasn't sure herself how telephones connected behind the scenes; there was probably some sort of machine involved. Before she could say anything, Colin sat upright and pointed into the Forbidden Forest.

“Is that… is that a dog?” he asked. “Do you think Hagrid got another one to keep Fang company?”

There was a sharp intake of breath from Ada, and she wrapped Ginny’s arm in a vice-like grip. “That’s not a dog, it’s the Grim -- a death omen. Stay quiet and back away, don’t lose sight of it, don’t even blink…”

Ginny slowly rose to a seated position, her heart hammering in her chest. Could they run to Hagrid’s hut? It wasn’t far, but she doubted she could outrun a dog, especially one so close. But when she saw the animal, all the tension in her body relaxed. “Wait -- I know that… uh… that dog. We’ve met before.”

_What was Sirius doing here?_

As if in confirmation, Cleo slipped from Ginny’s lap and trotted toward the treeline, and Ginny stood to follow. Sirius must be in Hogsmeade on business for the Order.

“You know a dog that lives in the Forbidden Forest?” Ada asked, her face incredulous. “When did that happen?”

“Oh, he’s from Hogsmeade, not the forest," Ginny lied. She'd promised Sirius she would keep his secret, after all. "I’ll just meet you back at the castle, alright?”

“If you think you can follow some dog into the woods without an explanation, you’ve gone mental.” Ada shook her head, “I’ll need a full report after!”

Sirius pawed the ground and barked, wagging his tail as he waited for Ginny to reach him. He led the way along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, moving quickly across the grounds as they came near the Whomping Willow.

_'The_ _broom killer_ ,’ she thought with disdain. The branches of the Willow creaked angrily, untouched by the wind as they swayed to their own wrathful motion.

Where was Sirius leading her?

Cleo walked past, crossing within range of the cruel branches. Ginny held her breath as Cleo darted toward the trunk, landing with her paws outstretched on a small knot near the center. The entire tree stopped.

Sirius crept under the branches, dipping his head as he entered the hollow at the base. There, a passage concealed by the roots led down and away from the school. If only she’d brought the map or her cloak with her, she could explore this place properly. Cleo hopped into Ginny's arms and they climbed below, following Sirius.

"Where are we going?"

Sitting on his hind legs, Sirius changed back into his human form and stood up, knocking his head against the low ceiling. "Gah -- I swear this tunnel used to be taller. I'm taking you into Hogsmeade, to the Three Broomsticks. That kneazle of yours is clever, by the way," said Sirius as he reached back and stroked Cleo’s head.

"Did we come this way to avoid the dementors?"

Sirius nodded. "That’s part of the reason I wanted to see you. How are you feeling? I heard it was a nasty fall."

So he knew already. Everything that happened to her seemed to be _Order business_. Like she couldn't take care of herself.

"I'm fine, it's the dementors that are my problem. Professor Lupin is teaching me the Patronus Charm, but I haven't got very far yet." _Or anywhere at all, really._

Ginny shivered, thinking of the way the boggart had emerged from the chest, over and over, her skin clammy and crawling with fear. She still couldn't cast the wispy grey shield that was the first step to a full Patronus, and she'd been practicing every day for more than a week. It was exhausting.

"I'm glad to hear that Remus is teaching you. And don't get down on yourself, it's a tough spell for any witch or wizard." Sirius stopped her with a motion, peeking out from a doorway before waving her along.

"I just wish I didn’t faint every time I came near one. What if the dementors come to another match?"

_And what if they come for her?_

There were dementors working with Voldemort, she'd seen that in her dream of his escape. And after the attack at the quidditch match, Ginny knew she needed to protect herself. No matter what the Ministry believed, the dementors weren’t there to make her safe.

Once inside his room, Sirius handed Ginny a package, grinning from ear to ear as she turned it in her hands. She could tell from the shape that it was a broom, and a sense of calm settled around her. She could fly again.

“I goaded James into an upgrade, so you owe me one for that.”

Ginny unwrapped the broom with care, excitement giving way to awe as she realized that she was holding a _Firebolt_. It was even sleeker and more beautiful than it had looked sitting in the shop window that night in Diagon Alley, when Harry had shown her the cloak -- the same night they overheard Lucius Malfoy whispering of plans in the dead of night.

“You’ll be the fastest one out on the pitch now,” Sirius said, tapping the broom.

Ginny scoffed, “I already _was_ the fastest one out there.”

She could already imagine whipping through the air again, passing the quaffle before making a run at the goals. She had played well against Slytherin, at least until she fell. She was ready to play again, but the thought of dementors swooping toward her sent a shiver down her spine.

"You can cast a Patronus, right?" Ginny asked.

Sirius nodded. "It's required for members of the Order."

"How did you pick a memory that worked? I think mine might not be happy enough."

Sirius pulled his wand out, holding it before him. "The Patronus Charm is an old magic. It's more than just a shield of happiness against dementors, it's the embodiment of our hope, and it fights against the dementors' despair."

Sirius cast the spell, and brilliant light filled the room as a dog bounded forth from his wand, circling the bed before stopping in front of them.

"The Order also uses them to send messages, too. Damn useful." Sirius turned back to speak to the Patronus, "Gave her the broom, she said it was rubbish."

He flicked his wand, sending the spectral dog away, and it disappeared in a swirl of light. The room felt colder after, as if the Patronus had also taken the heat with it.

"Choose a memory that you think of when you want to feel hopeful. It's easier to focus on a single memory, but the important part is the conviction of your hope," Sirius explained. "You have to believe it."

"What's your memory?" Ginny asked, hoping the question wasn't too personal.

But Sirius didn't seem to mind, his eyes warm as he recalled his memory.

"When I was sixteen, I ran away from my family. Their outdated, pureblood beliefs frustrated me, and I couldn't spend another moment in that house. I walked out into the snow with nothing more than my wand and a leather jacket. In the middle of winter, can you believe that?"

Sirius continued, "I only had a bit of muggle money on me, so I got to Godric's Hollow by muggle trains and a bus. Nearly froze to death walking the last leg, but the Potters took me in and bundled me up. I was afraid they'd be furious or think I was stupid for what I'd done, but they just set about taking care of me. To me, that's what hope feels like."*

What gave Ginny hope? Learning that she had a family? That there was a whole magical world waiting for her? Was it her own experience with the Potters, choosing to take her in when she'd almost given up all hope?

The memory of Harry sleeping at the edge of her hospital bed resurfaced, and the feeling of him near her when they'd snuck under the cloak. Ginny held tight to that feeling, basking in its warmth.

After all, there were plenty of reasons to hope.

* * *

Ginny collapsed into a chair, wiping her sleeve across her brow. Sweat plastered her hair to her face, and she tried to fan herself to cool down. Professor Lupin gave her another piece of chocolate and a glass of water, which Ginny took with shaking hands. She was sick of eating chocolate.

She had committed to learning the Patronus Charm to protect herself, but her lack of progress was frustrating. Now that quidditch had started again, she was finding even less time to practice with Professor Lupin, and Ginny worried she would never get it at this rate.

Weeks had passed since she’d visited the Chamber and found Slytherin’s library, but Ginny still hadn’t returned, even though she was certain that it was important. If she put that off to practice and she couldn’t even learn the spell, it would be a massive waste of time.

But Ginny couldn’t give up, not with dementors circling the school. She just had to find more time to practice until she got this right. The Chamber could wait until she was ready to face it, couldn’t it?

"That was good, I'm very impressed with your progress, Ginny," Lupin said.

"As if. It’s been ages and I still can't get more than a wisp. I'm holding my memories as tightly as I can, but they're too weak. Maybe I'm too weak."

"That's not true," Lupin said, watching her for a moment as he muttered quietly to himself. "Perhaps your focus is too much on the memory and not enough on the spell. Next time, try stepping into it with your mind blank, and let's see what you reach for. In desperation, we often cling to our strongest hopes."

Ginny scrunched her nose. "Won't I just faint immediately, then? If I'm not prepared?" She wasn’t looking forward to that slimy, icy feeling that would cling to her for skin whenever the dementor emerged.

"You don't give up easily -- look at how many times you've tried today. In fact, I think that's enough for tonight, we can pick it up again tomorrow."

“Wait,” Ginny said, “let me try again. I’ve got quidditch practice after dinner tomorrow, and we’re in the Astronomy tower for class the night after. Just one more go.”

Professor Lupin shook his head in resignation, "Alright, but only because I'm in a good mood. Tell me when you're ready."

Ginny nodded, trying to bring her breathing under control. Sirius had told her that the Patronus represented hope against the dementors’ despair. Maybe she saw memories of losing people she loved because she was afraid of being alone. Did that mean that having friends -- having a family -- was her hope?

Lupin flicked his wand, and the chest sprung open, oozing darkness as the form of a dementor emerged. Ginny felt the chill in her bones, heard the distant screams, insistent and captivating, calling to her… and she felt so alone.

But she wasn’t alone. She allowed herself to believe it, just for a moment, and Ginny felt the despair lessen every so slightly.

_Ada and Colin, confronting her after she’d listened to Tom’s diary… How James risked his job because he trusted her… Harry sneaking in to see her, late at night… Ron’s worried face after she woke in the hospital wing…_

“ _Expecto patronum!_ ” Ginny cast, gripping her wand and pointing it directly in the dementor. A shield of brilliant white light burst forth, forcing the dementor back until it crumpled back into the chest. Professor Lupin kicked the lid closed, beaming at Ginny.

Ginny’s hand shook as she held the wand outstretched. Something had changed. Every breath was warm and heavy with significance, cascading deep within her, as if a door had opened, and the sound of it echoed like a ripple on still water.

“That was excellent! See? All that hard work pays off, you’ll be casting a full Patronus in no time -- and as a second year!”

“So, we can try again on Friday? After dinner?”

Lupin shook his head and handed her the last of the chocolate bar. “I won’t be able to do any sessions next week, but why don’t you take a break? Now that you can cast the shield, you don’t need the boggart to practice. We can pick up again next semester, if you want to continue.”

“Next semester?” Ginny asked, her elation fading. If she wasn’t practicing the Patronus, what excuse did she have to avoid exploring the Athenaeum? “But what if I lose my progress? I got it right _once_ , but it might have been a fluke that time…”

“Be proud of yourself. You've done incredibly well tonight,” Lupin said, leading her to the door as he checked his watch. “I have a meeting with, uh, Headmaster Dumbledore in a few minutes. I'll see you in class.”

On her way to Gryffindor Tower, Ginny passed Auror Tonks in the hallway going the opposite direction. She seemed surprised to see Ginny but waved, hurrying as she turned down another corridor.

That seemed strange. What was Tonks doing patrolling the classrooms when they were empty? Something about the look of surprise on her face -- like she was hiding something -- didn’t sit right with Ginny, and it made her suspicious.

Ginny turned and followed the way Tonks had gone, checking around each corner and listening for movement. She barely stayed hidden when she caught up to Tonks, who was now trying to open the door to Lupin’s classroom. Ginny watched as Tonks drew her wand and pointed it at the door, slipping inside with a whispered _alohomora_.

This was more than a routine check, Tonks was looking for something. Did it have to do with Professor Lupin? Maybe she was just being paranoid.

“I thought you were heading to bed?” asked Professor Lupin, nearly making her jump as he came up behind her. “Did you forget something in my classroom?”

Ginny shook her head and told him of how Tonks snuck inside. “Do you think she is up to something? Should we see what she's doing?”

Professor Lupin laughed, picking at the collar of his shirt. “No! No, I’m, uh, sure that won’t be necessary. Part of her Auror duties, no doubt. Monitoring the school, that sort of thing. Now, you better head back to Gryffindor Tower, it’s almost curfew.”

He was nervous. Lupin had returned so quickly, and Dumbledore’s office was across the castle. He must have known that Tonks was coming. What did he suspect?

Something wasn’t adding up.

* * *

"Ginny, is that you?" Ada grumbled, waving her hand out from under her curtains. "Are we doing something tonight?"

"No, go back to sleep. I'm just slipping out to practice with Harry, I'll be back in an hour."

Ada yawned and slipped the curtains open, her hair a wild halo around her. "What are you and Harry practicing in the middle of the night?"

"Just my Patronus," Ginny whispered, glad that the lights were low and Ada couldn't see the color in her cheeks. "You know, for all the dementors? In case you've already forgotten."

"But just you two? At night?" Ada perked up, and her bed creaked as she leaned toward Ginny. "He wants to kiss you, doesn't he? You can tell me."

"Oh, shut it, I'm leaving. Go back to sleep." 

"Have fun _practicing_ ," Ada taunted before collapsing back into bed, making kissing noises in the air.

Ginny shook her head, taking the map and cloak out of their hiding spots and secreting them downstairs, where Harry was waiting by the crackling fire.

Hidden under the cloak, they huddled close together, and Ginny felt her heart swell at Harry's warmth. His nearness thrummed in her fingertips and she hardly cared where they were going anymore. They stole through the night, silent, like Hogwarts was theirs alone, spread before them for the choosing.

Was this what it felt like to be with someone, to share a secret and feel the thrill of their touch? Ginny tried to keep her heart in check. This was only to practice the Patronus, nothing more. And yet, her heart beat faster all the same.

They found an empty classroom and locked the door behind them, and Harry set about dampening the sound at the doorways and walls. "This will help some, but we should remember to check the map while we practice."

"Where did you learn to do that?"

"Fred and George taught us during our first year. They seemed to think we'd be exploding things on the regular in our dorms."

"And you aren't?" Ginny joked.

"No, Seamus prefers a crowd for it."

They both laughed, and Ginny said, "It sounds like a useful spell."

Harry shrugged. "Not like a Patronus. I heard it's only taught to advanced Defensive Against the Dark Arts students, and you already mastered it?"

Ginny felt herself swell with pride. "Well, not exactly _mastered_ it, but Professor Lupin said I'll get there soon."

"But he's not tutoring you anymore?"

"He says I need a break and we can continue in the new year, but I'm so close! I pushed back the dementor -- well, the boggart-dementor -- but it felt real. I think if I practiced just a little more I’d be able to do it."

Ginny showed Harry the motion and incantation, taking care to demonstrate the way her wand moved and wrist flicked. Harry watched her, mirroring her movements and turning to the task with a quiet intensity. 

The weight of his attention was unnerving at first, but there was something about how Harry’s eyes caught hers that excited her.

“The hardest part of the spell,” Ginny explained, “is choosing the right memory for it. That’s taking me ages to get right, but Sirius told me it’s more important to pick a hopeful memory than a happy one.”

“Hopeful, not happy. Got it.” Harry raised his wand, practicing the motion a few more times without uttering the spell. Ginny watched, itching to reach out and touch his hand to guide him, even though the motion looked right.

“When you’re ready, try to hold the memory in your mind and feel all the feelings that come with it. Professor Lupin said that casting the spell was like sending those feelings out to protect you, that’s why they need to be strong.”

Harry tried a few times, his voice getting louder with each attempt, but without success. Ginny kept her eye on the map, careful to track the movements of Mr. Filch and Mrs. Norris. It was difficult to tell how close someone was to their classroom, especially with the various moving staircases and hallways that somehow seemed to intersect or overlap, but she thought they were safe for now.

“I think my memories are too weak. I can’t even get a wisp to form.” Harry collapsed into a chair, allowing his wand to clatter onto the desk before it rolled to the floor. He made a frustrated sound and reached for it, snagging it with his outstretched fingers.

“That was my problem, too, but you’ll find the right one. What memory are you using right now?” Ginny asked.

“First, I tried when Ron and I got our Hogwarts letters, but that didn’t work. Then I tried making the quidditch team as a first year and winning the House Cup. Those felt better, but they didn’t work either. It’s like the magic is there, but I can't reach it.” Harry shrugged. “Maybe I'm not doing things right.”

“That’s how I felt at first. I tried to use the House Cup or when I found out I was a witch, but neither of those seemed to work for me. The time I got it, I didn’t think of a specific memory, just the feeling of not being alone. That's where I found my hope.”

Harry nodded and squared his shoulders, preparing to cast the spell again. _“Expecto Patronum!”_

A wisp of silvery white swirled from Harry’s wand, curling like smoke and lit from within. Harry’s face was elated, and the wisp lingered for a few moments before fading.

“Now you've got it!” Ginny wanted to reach out and hug him, but she held back, nervous that she would make things awkward between them.

“Only because I have a good teacher. I understand what you mean now, about reliving the feeling instead of the memory.”

Ginny met Harry’s eyes, and her breath hitched in her chest. For a moment, she was transported to the start of summer, laying in bed beside Harry after nightmares had woken them. It reminded her of something Dumbledore had said after her Sorting, that happiness could be found in the darkest of places, if we knew to look for the light. That's what hope really was -- light in darkness.

"Can you show me yours?" Harry asked.

Ginny drew her wand and closed her eyes, trying not to let the fact that Harry was there distract her. She let the memories from Professor Lupin's classroom drift into her mind, swirling like the smoke in a pensieve until she was brimming with their hope.

_Ada following her into the Forbidden Forest… Fred and George giving her the map… Lily's letter, and a family waiting for her… The look on Harry's face when he'd finally woken after the Chamber… The silent rise and fall of his chest as he lay beside her, asleep..._

_Harry leaning close to her under the cloak, their shoulders touching as they crept down the hallway..._

Light burst forth from the end of Ginny's wand, forming into a dazzling horse that swept around the room, returning to stare at her. Her Patronus shook its mane before it faded, and Ginny's hand passed through the place where it had stood a moment before.

"I didn't know you could do a full one." There was a hint of awe in Harry’s voice, his eyes still trained on the spot where her Patronus had disappeared.

"I didn't know either, that was my first time.”

Ginny shivered, feeling gooseflesh running across her skin. 

Her Patronus was a horse; tall and fast, mane blowing in the wind as it ran wild and free. She imagined it galloping along silent shores, hooves churning dust and sand in its wake. 

Did it mean anything that it was a horse? There was something intimate in the way it had looked her in the eyes, as if it knew her, had always known her.

“What did you think of when you cast that time?” Harry asked.

_'Of you,'_ she wanted to say, but didn't.

“Well,” Ginny hesitated, “mostly the same things as before, with Professor Lupin.”

“It definitely worked.” Harry's glasses hung a little down his nose, and he reached up to adjust them, his hand brushing Ginny's as he did so. She could feel the warmth in her face and knew she was a brilliant red, but Harry said nothing. Instead, he stared at his hand for a moment, distracted, as if he was as shocked by the contact as she was.

Harry finally met her gaze, his eyes filled with conviction. “Ginny…”

The doorknob to the classroom rattled, and Ginny nearly leapt out of her skin. She reached for the map while Harry collected his cloak, and they slipped underneath moments before they heard a key sliding into the lock.

“Leaving the lamps going and the door locked, can you believe that, Mrs. Norris?” Filch asked, holding the door open for his cat. After a few moments, he turned back to the door. “Nothing in here, let’s continue our rounds. We've still got the rest of the floor to go and I want to finish before my wireless program starts.”

But Mrs. Norris wasn't listening, patrolling the classroom slowly instead, as if she knew that someone else was there. Ginny tried to move further under the cloak, but it caused the map to crinkle, and the cat snapped her head up at the sound. Thankfully, Filch didn't notice.

"Come now, girl, there's nothing here."

Mrs. Norris stared at them for a few moments, and Ginny held her breath. Beside her, Harry tensed, his hand gripping her own like a vice as they watched the cat turn toward the door and slink away.

Harry exhaled heavily, letting go of Ginny's hand. "That was a close one. I thought she could see us for a moment."

"So did I." Ginny already missed holding his hand, the feeling of it still tingling against her skin as she flexed her fingers. "We should probably get out of here."

"Want to go in the cloak, or try to make a run for it?"

She thought of him next to her under the cloak, his breath tickling the hair by her ear as they huddled close. "The cloak, just to be safe." She tried not to sound too excited.

Back in the Gryffindor Common room, they said their goodbyes, Harry waving happily as he yawned. Their quiet intimacy had disappeared, but the feeling lingered, and Ginny took solace in knowing that she hadn’t imagined it.

He'd blushed when he said goodnight -- or was that just a trick of the light from the fireplace, casting the room in a warm red glow? Maybe she was only seeing what she wanted to see. It wasn't like anything had happened between them.

Ginny pulled the map out to refold it, noticing that she hadn't wiped the parchment with the _'mischief managed'_ incantation. She pulled out her wand and leveled it at the map, the tip pointing to Professor Lupin's office on the third floor.

Movement caught Ginny's eye, and she looked more closely, seeing a single dot labeled _'Nymphadora Tonks'_.

What was Tonks doing alone in Professor Lupin's classroom? She’d snuck into his office after Ginny finished her Patronus lessons. Maybe she was coming back to finish whatever Lupin had interrupted.

Ginny spread the map flat, peering at the dot as if it would somehow give her another clue. Unbidden, she thought of her dream with Voldemort and his snake, and the other man who'd pleaded and grovelled before her… before _Voldemort._ Not her, _Voldemort._

The man had said that he could infiltrate somewhere for Voldemort, that he could make anyone trust him. If Tonks could look like anyone, couldn't someone else with the same ability look like Tonks, too?

Ginny wanted to check for herself, but she'd be pushing her luck after such a close call with Filch. The map showed Tonks’s name, but Ginny wasn’t sure if that meant anything. Perhaps Fred and George would know.

And she would need to be extra careful around Tonks.

* * *

Ginny stood in front of the sink in Myrtle's old bathroom, steeling herself to enter the Chamber once again. 

She could do this. It was simple: down the pipes and through the doors to the center, and then along the smallest passage and into Slytherin's library. Simple.

Ginny hesitated. She'd already killed the only thing down there that could hurt her -- and she knew that her best opportunity to learn about Tom's diary lay below, in that library. Still, the fear remained, threatening to trap her.

But the whole point of practicing the Patronus was to keep fear from ruling her. Ginny owed it to herself -- and to Harry -- to learn everything she could about the diary, and she had put it off long enough. It was time.

As she was about to open the Chamber, Ginny heard voices approaching from outside. She slipped into a stall and shut the door just as two girls walked into the bathroom, doing her best not to make any noise.

“... to see the Owl Post, which is completely different from the one in Diagon Alley. And then to Honeydukes and the bookshop. He even got me a new quill! It's self-inking and can even siphon mistaken marks. He was so worried I wasn’t having fun, but it was lovely. He was really sweet.”

It was Hermione’s voice. Ginny leaned close to the gap in the door and spied Lavender Brown, fixing her hair in the mirror.

“Really? I guess he’s alright,” said Lavender, passing out of Ginny’s frame of view. “I’d be more interested if he was a quidditch star like the other Weasleys.”

“Oh, he will be, once Oliver Wood graduates. You’ll see, he just needs an opportunity. Ron is quite good with strategy, he’ll make a brilliant captain someday.”

Ginny agreed with Hermione's assessment; Ron _was_ good at chess, but he didn't trust himself with much else. Like being afraid that his new wand was too powerful for him -- or when he almost skipped the Hogsmeade visit because he was nervous about what to say with Hermione. All Ron needed was to believe in himself and be confident in his abilities, Ginny was sure of it.

Once they’d left, Ginny opened the Chamber and wasted no time in getting to the bottom. 

There was a familiarity to the stale air and flickering green flames now, replacing the paralyzing fear. 

This was her place, her secret.

The December chill reached even these tunnels, though the pipes were hot, and she only needed to stay within reach of them to keep herself warm. She paused at the doors to the Athenaeum, hesitating only for a moment, and spoke the word.

_‘Open.’_

Braziers bathed the room in light, much brighter than the tunnels outside. It was silent this time, and Ginny stepped lightly as she crossed the threshold.

Now that she looked at it, Ginny saw that the Athenaeum was larger than she'd realized, with even more bookcases ringing every floor and a stairway spiraling upward. She followed the main staircase down to the lowest level, afraid to breathe. It was like a tomb, silent and undisturbed but for the shadows that danced along the walls.

A desk sat in the center of the room, and Ginny crossed to it, pulling the chair away with a horrifying screech. There was a sound of someone coughing, and Ginny spun around with her wand raised, but found no one.

"Hello?" asked a voice, slightly muffled, as if from behind a curtain. "Is someone there? If you've come back, Riddle, I demand you return the tomes that you stole!"

Ginny turned in the direction of the voice and found a large sheet hanging on the wall. She crept closer to inspect it, noticing the outline of a picture frame beneath the folds. She reached up and pulled the sheet off the wall, uncovering a nearly life-size painting of a wizard with a severe face and dark green robes. Ginny recognized his face from the broken statue outside.

Salazar Slytherin.

“Well, you certainly are not Tom Riddle. Yet, there _is_ something familiar about you, girl. Tell me your name,” said the portrait, looking down on her.

Should she lie? Would he know that she wasn’t really the heir? What would he do if he knew?

“Your name, _girl_.”

“Ginny Weasley.”

“Welcome, Ginny Weasley, to the Athenaeum of Forbidden Knowledge.” He swept his hands in a grand gesture, and Ginny followed his gaze, taking in the vast collection of books that reached to the domed ceiling.

“You aren't Riddle or one of his ilk,” continued Salazar, his fingers steepled before him, “but I can sense something of him on you, there is some other connection.”

On her? Ginny wrinkled her nose at the thought. “He murdered my parents.”

He stared at Ginny, his eyes drifting upward to her scar. “Indeed. There are more ways to touch a person than physically, though he’s left a mark. It’s no matter. You, my heir, have returned.”

“How did you know that I was your heir?” Ginny asked, certain that she was not. She hadn’t even been sorted into Slytherin, but decided to play along.

“You have the talent, don’t you? Did you think such a gift was given freely to wizards?”

“You mean parseltongue? I knew it was rare, but...”

“It is far more than simply _rare_ ,” Salazar snapped, offended. “No, I took the skill for myself from a fiend of Avalon, a foul trickster who thought it could fool me. I allowed it to live in exchange for the gift, and the promise only myself and my descendents will ever possess such a talent.”

Avalon? How old was Slytherin's portrait? What did he know about the realm of Morgana?

“Wait, I can sense it now. You’re a pureblood, you aren’t of Riddle’s line at all. He told me he was the last of my descendants, and after tainting my legacy with his muggle father’s blood. More lies, more trickery.”

“Tom’s father was a muggle?” Ginny asked, surprised.

“And you could see it in his breeding. The things he researched… stealing books from the Athenaeum!” Salazar was furious now, pacing in his painting and pounding a large staff to punctuate his words. “But we can start anew. Tell me, how did you come to find this place? Are you related to the Gaunt family?”

“I found it…” Ginny began, but paused. What should she tell Slytherin? There seemed to be some animosity between him and Voldemort, and as vile as his ideas about blood purity were, they worked to her advantage. She couldn’t tell him about killing his snake and the Chamber being opened. She needed to lie. “I’d heard legends about the Chamber of Secrets and searched the school for ages until I found it. I knew I had the gift.”

“And the basilisk, you can control it?”

“The basilisk? There's a skeleton of a giant snake in the central chamber, I saw it when I first came down. It looks like the roof collapsed on it.”

“A skeleton…?” Salazar stared at her, at a loss for words, opening and closing his mouth without making a sound. “I… no, that can’t be…”

“ _I’m sorry,_ ” Ginny added in parselmouth, hoping that she could convince him.

_‘As am I.’_

Salazar turned away from her, stroking his beard as he paced in and out of the frame. Ginny had a look around the library, fascinated and disturbed by Slytherin’s collection.

Books and notes filled each row, interspersed with cruel instruments of dark magic. It would take a long time to look through everything, far longer than she could manage in a lifetime. If only she could summon exactly what she was looking for, like casting _accio_ for information.

“I blame the Riddle boy,” Slytherin’s portrait said after a long while, his voice heavy with emotion. “He promised he would use the basilisk to cleanse the school, and I _believed_ him, but all he cared about were his self-centered vanity projects. He didn’t understand the meaning of legacy, wanted it all for himself. Cowardice. You understand, don’t you? An unbroken line, shaping the world for century after century -- that, girl, is a legacy.”

“Like the royal family?”

Slytherin scoffed. “No comparison. For over a thousand years my house has stood and that short-sighted fool boy would throw all of it away, all of _this,_ for pride.”

“What was he working on that was so important?”

“Nothing worth pursuing. Normally, I’d tell you to start with looking at the works of Merlin, one of my first pupils, but of course the half-blood has made off with those in particular.”

"You taught Merlin?" Ginny asked. 

"He was my prized pupil, my apprentice. I have taught so many great wizards…"

"But didn't Merlin create the Order of Merlin to work with muggles? Aren't you against that?"

Slytherin laughed, leaning on his staff for support. "Is that what you think happened? Is that what they teach in this school? Despicable. I knew this institution wouldn't last once they started letting mudbloods into the ranks. No,” he continued, “Merlin was a general -- a tactical genius -- in the war against those so-called ‘beings’ that blight our land.”

"Beings?"

"Yes, all these foul creatures that claim to be more than they are -- elves, goblins, giants," Slytherin waved his hand in a wide arc, "you understand. The undesirables."

Ginny felt her stomach churn at the hate in his words, and she remembered what Kreacher had called Merlin: _Elfsbane_. Now she understood why.

"But they all have their own magic, aren't they part of the wizarding world? Why…"

Slytherin laughed, the sound sending shivers along her spine. "Have their own magic… of course they have their own magic, much as children do. Unrefined, weak. Base talents of deception or mysticism, trickery. They don't have the fortitude or ambition to learn true magic."

"But…" Ginny began, but Slytherin was soon speaking over her again.

"Hush, girl, can't you see that I'm speaking? Our kind are all that matters, everyone else stands in the way or kneels."

Ginny said nothing, tasting bile in the back of her throat.

"Now where was I? Oh, yes, Merlin. Brilliant tactician and talented wizard. He gained the trust of the muggle King Arthur and counseled him to wage war against the undesirables. There was an order of knights devoted to hunting dragons and trolls and giants, and those thrice-damned hedge witches of Avalon."

“Like Morgana?” Both Sirius and Luna had spoken of Merlin’s great enemy when Ginny had asked them about what Firenze the centaur had said in the forest. That she was a child of Avalon. The more she listened, the more Ginny believed that Luna’s mum had the right of it. What was it she had said, that the victors write the histories?

“Yes, Morgana! That vile creature,” Slytherin spat. “I’m sure she met a terrible end. Merlin defeated her, but the witch destroyed the prize jewel that was Avalon. Still, we got the last laugh. Never seen a goblin student at Hogwarts, have you? Ha!”

He turned away in his frame, laughing, and Ginny took the moment to school her face. Slytherin's rants were torrents of thousand year-old hatred, and the thought of what this library might hold made her sick. She couldn’t wait to leave this place.

If only she could speak to Firenze again, ask him what he’d meant with everything he’d said about Avalon. But she couldn’t go back without risking his life, he was serving as her vouchsafe, so her questions would remain unanswered.

Was she a descendent of Morgana, as Voldemort was of Slytherin? Maybe that’s what the prophecy predicted and why he hunted her, believing that the cycle was repeating itself.

She couldn’t trust Slytherin with that information; he would be certain to view her as an enemy, and he was right. But if she could hold out for a little longer, if she could just get a hold of Tom’s research, it might all be worth it.

“Sir, I’ve an idea. That research belongs in the library, and we both want revenge on Riddle for what he’s done. Help me learn what he was researching so I can fight him, preserve your legacy. He’ll be hunting me anyway, I need to be ready when he comes.”

“Fight him? He must have fifty years on you. How old are you, fourteen? Maybe fifteen?”

“I’m twelve, but I can handle myself.” _Killed his beloved basilisk,_ she thought with satisfaction. “I can cast a full Patronus already.”

“Indeed?” Slytherin stroked his beard, watching Ginny warily. “Your ambition is admirable, but it will take more than ambition to avenge this slight against me. Do you see that bookcase against the wall over there? Bring out everything on the second shelf and let us begin.”

Ginny took a deep breath, trying to silence the fear swirling in her belly, and took a tattered notebook from the shelf. The elegant arc of Tom’s script was immediately recognizable, and she nearly dropped the book in surprise. But the letters stayed still, ignorant of her presence, and faded with years of disuse.

She was in the den of snakes now, and Ginny couldn’t show her fear.

* * *

Ginny stood in Professor Slughorn's office, waiting for him to finish gathering his things. He had jumped at her offer to show him the Chamber of Secrets and harvest the rare basilisk venom, but Ginny had yet to mention her true intentions. It was nearly the end of term now, and she needed to talk to him about what she'd learned in Slytherin's library. She needed to understand.

"A very handsome gift, don't you think?" Slughorn held up a beautifully woven rug for Ginny to see. He traced the patterns with care before tapping it with his wand, and the rug rolled itself up into a neat bundle. "From a former student, he's a potions researcher studying advanced elixirs in Nepal. Will be a household name within a decade, I'm certain of it!"

"It's a very nice rug," Ginny answered, unsure of what else to say, or why Slughorn was so intent on showing it to her.

"It's more than that, this is a flying carpet. They're less common in Britain, but a staple in most of Asia. A more civilized way to travel, I must say."

Slughorn balanced the flying carpet under his arm and grabbed his potions bag, checking it briefly before snapping the clasps closed.

"All set?" Ginny was eager to get moving.

“Yes, I think so. Now, where did you say the entrance was?”

“It’s on the second floor, follow me.”

“Not in the dungeons? Clever, Salazar, very clever.”

Ginny said nothing. Slytherin's horrid perspectives were still too fresh in her mind, but her perseverance had paid off. His hatred for Tom Riddle ate at him like a parasite, festering for decades in the darkness, and he was all too willing to point her in the right direction.

Voldemort obsessed over the secret to eternal life, paranoid that someone would eventually betray him. Slytherin said that Tom was so fearful of the unknown that he'd willingly subjected himself to horrific torture to guarantee his own survival. He would pay any cost to live forever.

The bathroom was empty when they reached it, and Ginny locked the door before she opened the Chamber.

“Incredible, truly genius craftsmanship. How did you find this last year?” asked Slughorn, running his hands along the smooth stone.

“Ada and Colin were the ones who figured it out. We talked to the ghost of Myrtle Warren, the student who died fifty years ago. She died here, just outside the entrance, and there is a small snake carved under the sink. Just here,” Ginny said, pointing it out. “Ready?”

Slughorn peered down into the darkness, lighting his wand and casting it down the tunnel. The light drifted further and further until it disappeared from sight in the distant gloom.

Ginny mounted her broom and Slughorn sat atop his flying carpet, silent as they drifted deeper below Hogwarts, the walls too narrow for them to travel side by side.

Ginny guided her broom with only a light touch. When should she ask Slughorn for the favor? Once he’d harvested the venom? Or before she showed him the central chamber?

In his notes, Tom had detailed his plans for the diary in stomach-churning precision, describing the power he thought he would gain for the sacrifice. To him, the diary was a symbolic offering to complement the splintering of his soul. He’d unearthed an old and dark magic that could preserve the life of the caster by hiding part of their soul in an object. That object, like the life of the caster, would become cursed, their futures intertwined.

Tom called it a horcrux.

What he didn't say was how it worked, or how to destroy it. Slytherin's portrait had described the creation process as 'ritualistic self-debasement meant to torment the psyche', which Ginny didn't _completely_ understand but decided not to ask about. What she did understand was that the process hardened the soul until it was brittle and cold, primed to shatter.

Slughorn had been Tom’s head of house fifty years ago, he might remember him as a boy of sixteen. That didn’t mean he knew how horcruxes worked, or how to find and destroy them, but Ginny had to try.

As the braziers flickered to life along the hallway, she told Slughorn everything that happened in the Chamber last year, including how Tom's memory controlled her and Harry using the diary. Slughorn listened with rapt attention, taking special interest in how she had pulled the Sword of Gryffindor from the Sorting Hat.

“Remarkable! I saw the sword displayed in the Headmaster’s office. A beautiful weapon, goblin-made and over a thousand years old. Can you imagine, lost all these years, and it appears out of the Sorting Hat!”

“Gryffindor gave it to me,” Ginny said, remembering the vision in the hat. “I saw him after I put the hat on.”

“You saw Godric Gryffindor? _Inside_ the hat?”

Ginny nodded, “I heard voices during my sorting, but I didn’t see anyone until the sword.”

“Interesting.” Slughorn paused for a moment, watching Ginny. “Hearing their voices suggests that you may have proficiency in the subtle magics of the mind, Occlumency and Legilimency.”

“Is that the one where you can use a pensieve?” Ginny remembered Dumbledore saying something of the sort when they spoke in his office at the beginning of term.

“Yes, for memory extraction, but that’s only scratching the surface. It is a rare gift for someone so young. In fact, we should restart your tutoring program from last year. I’ll teach you myself.” Slughorn shook his head and added, “It’s interesting, sometimes the similarities are in the most surprising…”

But Ginny didn’t get to hear the rest of the sentence. The sight of the basilisk’s skeleton rendered Slughorn speechless, and he circled the great snake with boyish excitement. He returned to his bag and retrieved several glass vials and other equipment, laying everything out along the ground.

"This is an excellent specimen, I’ve never seen anything like it." He drew his wand and tapped each of the vials, expanding them until they could fit the razor sharp fangs. He set about removing them, taking great care and grasping each one with a dragonhide glove. Slughorn slowly placed each fang into a vial, corking and storing them in his bag.

It was now or never. Ginny screwed up her courage and cleared her throat, “Professor, there is something I need to ask you.”

Slughorn turned, setting his tools down and giving Ginny his full attention. “Yes?”

“Do you know anything about horcruxes?”

The effect was immediate. Slughorn’s face drained of color, his mouth opening and closing silently as he adjusted his collar.

“How do you…” he spluttered, unable to find the words. Finally, he seemed to reach a decision. “Ms. Weasley, that is an unacceptable subject for any witch of moral character. We do not teach horcruxes at Hogwarts, and I certainly _do not_ know how to make one. If you think…”

“I don’t want to _make_ one,” Ginny interrupted, panic working its way into her chest. “I just want to understand how they work...”

“ _Absolutely not,_ they are one of the most evil…”

“... so I can learn how to destroy them!” Ginny finished, nearly yelling to make her point.

Slughorn looked taken aback, reaching for his handkerchief with shaking hands before dabbing the sweat from his forehead. “To destroy them? I can’t imagine you’ll encounter any horcruxes. It is an ancient magic, very dark. Expressly forbidden in any civilized society.”

Ginny brought out Tom’s notebook and handed it to Slughorn. “Tom Riddle’s diary was Voldemort’s first horcrux. He wrote about how he… well, it’s all in there. He wanted to make six of them, but I don’t know if he did.”

Slughorn began flipping through the notebook, eyes scanning the pages for something in particular but coming up empty. “What else did he write in this notebook?”

“Only his theories, and his plans for the ritual.” Ginny shivered, thinking of the terrifying things in Riddle’s notes and the disgust in Slytherin’s voice when he’d spoken of the preparations. She didn’t want to go over those details ever again.

“You want to learn about horcruxes so you can destroy You-Know… so you can destroy Voldemort’s?”

Ginny nodded. “He has at least one more, but maybe six, if he managed it. I had a dream about him at the end of summer, just like when he escaped from Azkaban. He was preparing to do the ritual and there was a snake he spoke with. She was his ‘vessel’. But I don’t remember much else.”

“A snake? A living horcrux?” Slughorn shivered, absentmindedly wringing his hands. “I only knew him for a brief time, when he was a student, but _that_ Tom Riddle never backed down from a challenge. To make six horcruxes... I can’t even imagine it.”

Slughorn stared at the notebook, lost in memory, and Ginny took a seat on a chunk of the collapsed masonry. She didn’t want to push him too hard, afraid that he might tell her nothing.

Eventually, Slughorn spoke, “Ms. Weasley, may I ask why you came to me with this? Instead of the Headmaster?”

“He’s kept secrets from me.” About Ginny being a witch, about what happened to her family and the Sheltons, about using a memory charm on her. 

No, if she went to Dumbledore with this information he would tell her it was _interesting_ and twirl his beard, pulling the wisp of memory from his mind and sealing it away in the pensieve, untouchable. And that would be the end.

“He certainly likes his secrets.” Slughorn paused and took a deep breath, “Alright, I’ll tell you what little I know about horcruxes, but first I must ask you: are you truly set on this path?”

“I don’t have a choice, he will come after me no matter what I do. All for this stupid prophecy. I have to know.”

Slughorn sat across from her on the broken stone, leaning heavily against it for support. “A horcrux allows its master to survive something that would otherwise kill them, even when it destroys the body. This is because the horcrux houses a piece of the person’s soul, separate and protected from harm.”

“And that’s how Tom wrote back to me, in the diary? Because it was a piece of his soul?”

“Exactly. The separated piece is a version of that person that exists outside of them. A kind of living memory, meant to lure a victim to the horcrux.” Slughorn paled, staring at his shaking hands.

“The horcrux allows its master to survive, but it cannot do so alone. It requires sacrifice.” He looked at Ginny, his expression pained. “A murder to create the horcrux, and a murder to consume it. Had the horcrux succeeded last year, Mr. Potter would have died, and Tom Riddle would have stood before you, very much alive.”

That’s why the diary had worked so hard to gain their trust. The rest of Voldemort’s horcruxes would be the same way, manipulative and hidden behind a veil of innocence. It had taken her a year to figure out the diary, and she had started with the horcrux in her hands. How was she ever supposed to find them all before Voldemort came for her?

How could she fight someone who couldn’t die?

“Is there a way to find the other horcruxes? Some kind of spell to detect dark magic or something?”

Slughorn shook his head, standing to pace as if something was bothering him.

“Not that I’m aware of. Until your story of destroying the diary, I wasn’t aware that basilisk venom would even work. It is a powerful poison from a beast made with dark magic, perhaps other powerful spells or poisons could work? But finding the horcruxes…”

Something seemed to click in his mind, and Slughorn sat upright, looking relieved. “I have a solution. I’ll study Riddle’s notebook and go to Dumbledore about the horcruxes. As you’ve said, he wouldn’t want you to involve yourself in something so dangerous, so we’ll keep him in the dark about that. Then I can begin training you in Occlumency.”

“But shouldn’t I be trying to find the horcruxes first?”

“Occlumency will be an absolute necessity, it is the study of protecting the mind from outside influence and invasion. Voldemort is a master of Legilimency -- much of the fear of his power was how easily he could steal someone’s secrets. There are very few strong enough to defend against him, but any ability will help you protect yourself.” Slughorn paused, his face serious. “I have to warn you, it is a very difficult branch of magic. It will take hard work to learn to protect yourself.”

“I can handle hard work.” She’d already mastered the Patronus Charm. If this could help protect her against Voldemort -- if this could give her a fighting chance -- she had to do whatever it took. “So when do we start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sirius's memory is taken from the wonderful FloreatCastellum's fic: [Snow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21003974)
> 
> It's canon as far as I'm concerned!


	10. Sweet Ophelia

##  ** Sweet Ophelia **

_Sweet Ophelia!_

_When young blood escapes_

_Vows that break_

_Go up, up away_

_Sweet Ophelia!_

_When young blood escapes_

_Vows that break_

_Go up, up away_

  * _Zella Day, 2015_



* * *

Snow fell outside the window, the breeze piling it into drifts along the roadside and blanketing the hedges in soft white. Godric’s Hollow was bright with holiday preparations, and Ginny felt encouraged and hopeful, despite the thoughts of dementors and horcruxes that resurfaced in the quiet moments when she was alone.

“Here, Ginny,” Lily called, handing her a box of ornaments. “You can help trim the tree. Put them wherever you’d like.”

The tree was a tall fir that reached nearly to the ceiling, its branches so perfectly symmetrical that Ginny wondered if Lily had fixed it by magic. Harry and Ron were in the other room, attempting to wrap presents without magic, but from the sounds Ginny was hearing through the door, she was certain they weren’t making much progress.

There was a whoosh from the fireplace as green flames leapt to life, briefly reminiscent of those in the Chamber of Secrets, but far warmer. Fred and George tumbled out, their arms laden with gifts as they stepped over the grate and into the room. Lily rushed over to tap them each with her wand, magically banishing the soot that collected on their clothing. Sirius soon followed, holding only a large handle of brandy and wearing an awful Christmas sweater, small lights blinking magically on the front and back.

“Sirius, aren’t you bringing the pudding?” Lily asked, a note of warning in her voice.

“Of course,” he answered, hoisting a brandy.

"The brandy is only the topping, and an optional one at that. Where’s the rest of the pudding?"

Sirius waved her off, "It's the best part! And I know how you feel about dessert before dinner, but I really don’t want it going bad, so I think we’d better start on it now.”

“I second that opinion!” shouted James, wrapping Sirius in a hug. He summoned three shot glasses from the cupboard and set them out, rubbing his hands as Sirius poured. Lily shook her head but took one all the same.

“And now for the light,” Sirius added, tapping his wand to each glass, and a brilliant flame glowed across the top of the alcohol. “Here’s to surviving another Christmas!”

They each blew out the flames before taking a shot. Fred and George made sounds of protest for being left out, but Ginny wasn’t disappointed; judging by the looks on their faces, it wasn’t a very pleasant experience.

Once they’d finished, James and Sirius joined Ginny around the tree, levitating strands of tinsel as they wrapped it slowly among the branches. Ginny continued to hang ornaments around the back, and it wasn’t long before James and Sirius forgot her presence, slipping into a whispered conversation about the Order.

“Did you hear about Crouch? Taking a leave of absence until further notice,” James said.

“Really? Well, no rush to bring him back, if you ask me. What’s it for? Merlin’s balls, I hope he’s not writing a memoir.”

“According to his letter, he caught dragon pox while investigating Robards and will be in _convalescence_ at his estate.”

“What a posh wanker,” Sirius muttered. “He really wrote convalescence, didn’t he?”

“Of course he did. What concerns me is that there are no reports of any other Aurors catching the pox. It doesn’t make any sense -- wouldn’t other Aurors who worked closely with Robards or Crouch have caught it? And why did it take so long for this to happen? You remember how it was when my parents had it. Everyone was panicking about how fast it could spread, how quickly people fell sick.”

“I remember,” Sirius said, bowing his head. “You’re probably right, though it hardly stands out against everything else. Do you think he’s covering for something?”

“I wish I knew,” James answered, voice barely above a whisper. “But we can’t waste our time figuring it out. We’ll need someone in the Order to look into it. Have you been to the cottage recently?”

"Here and there, it's ready, well, mostly ready. And the croft?"

"Ready. Lily and I have been spending a little time there. It's remote, but we've made a few trips to the nearest village. They're all polite enough."

Were they talking about the Order? Ginny couldn't tell if she was missing something, or perhaps it was some sort of code?

She leaned closer to hear and her foot caught on a small gift, nearly sending her tumbling into the tree. Ginny caught herself at the last moment, but James and Sirius were quick to notice her and dropped their conversation.

"Alright there, Ginny?" Sirius asked, looking at her in surprise. "I thought I was the one who's been drinking."

“James!” called Lily from the kitchen. “The carolers are here!”

Sirius leaned over to Ginny, dropping his voice, “The Christmas after we turned seventeen, James and I bewitched a cloud of snowballs to follow them and pelt them whenever someone was off key. Nearly started a brawl halfway down the block.”

“I had to write them a formal apology for that,” James grumbled. “They skipped our house for three years because they were so mad. Lily was furious with me.”

“We’ve only got until those two are seventeen,” Sirius said, nodding to the twins, “then it will probably be a lifetime ban.”

Watching as the twins slipped a few Canary Creams from their pockets, Ginny wasn’t sure they’d last even that long.

That night, as Ginny laid awake, she thought ahead to mince pies and Christmas crackers, and Wizard’s Chess with Ron. Holidays with the Potters meant laughter and music, and a family walk to the old gazebo after dinner, though Sirius would argue for the pub. Then they would gather around the fireplace and listen to holiday programmes on the wireless, like _The_ _Agnes Andrews Mysteries_ and _Wish Upon A Wizard_.

Perhaps it was the festive spirit of the Potters' home, chasing away her fears like a charging Patronus, or perhaps it was the knowledge that she was learning to protect herself -- and that she’d uncovered Voldemort’s great secret -- that emboldened her, but she believed that together, with her family, she could get through anything.

* * *

Ginny shivered in the cold of Grimmauld Place, glad that she'd remembered to wear long socks this visit. Somehow the frigid air seemed to seep through the walls, drawn inexorably like darkness at the mouth of a cave.

In the sitting room, a large fire was burning, and Ginny warmed herself in front of it until she felt slightly dazed from the heat.

When Ginny first came to Grimmauld Place, Sirius had spoken about his brother, Regulus -- the Death Eater, and how he followed his parents' pureblood philosophy until it led him straight to Voldemort. Did Regulus have books on dark objects, like horcruxes? Was this a secret that Voldemort had shared with his closest followers?

Ginny had to know.

Sirius sat on the couch, reading a new book that James had given him, this one titled _Jurassic Park_. He toyed with his wand absentmindedly, smiling when he saw Ginny.

“Had enough exploding snap?”

Ginny held up her singed sleeve in answer. "Fred and George are too quick, I'm catching up but after a while my fingers hurt."

"They started beating me last year, and now I can't even win a game. I pretend I'm over it, but I'm really just too afraid to play them," Sirius laughed.

Ginny wished there was a better way to bring up her request. She didn't want to make the mistake she had with Slughorn when he thought for a moment that she was interested in creating a horcrux.

"Was there something else you wanted to talk about?"

She took a deep breath. It was now or never.

"Do you have any of your brother's old books on dark objects? Professor Slughorn is training me to recognize them. He wants to make sure I can protect myself, especially after what happened last year," she added, watching Sirius's face.

"Oh, I see," he said, stumbling over his words. "Yes, I'm sure there is something of Regulus's stashed away somewhere." He stared into the fire for a moment before standing, "I'd rather not see them, I think. You can summon Kreacher and have him fetch them for you."

"Summon Kreacher?" Ginny asked, unsure of how it worked.

"I'm sorry, I haven't added you to the spell yet." Sirius extended an arm to her, gripping her forearm. "Now grab my arm in the same way."

Ginny did as she was told and listened as Sirius muttered a series of incantations. She didn't feel any different, save for a tingling sensation that stole down her spine.

“That should do it. Call out his name and Kreacher will appear wherever you are.”

“Kreacher,” Ginny said, as if trying to get someone’s attention.

There was a soft pop, and Kreacher appeared, turning to face Ginny with a sour expression. His eyes widened when he saw her, and he looked to Sirius.

“Help her with what she’s looking for, she's your master now, too,” Sirius stated, his voice firm. “I’ll check on what the boys are up to before they set fire to the house again.”

Sirius left, leaving Ginny alone with Kreacher. There was something heavy in her throat, choking her breath as she understood what Sirius had done with the ritual.

_Master._

What had she done?

She hadn’t really even agreed to it, Sirius had simply acted as if it were a trivial thing done without a second thought. Ginny could feel Kreacher’s eyes on her, and she wondered how he saw her now. He’d been opening up to her, but Ginny knew that things were different now.

“Mistress?” Kreacher asked, and Ginny felt herself shudder involuntarily.

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t know he was going to do it…”

But Kreacher said nothing and stared at her, unblinking.

“Are there any of Regulus’s old books still here? Ones about dark objects? I'd like to see them.”

Kreacher nodded, “Master threw them out, but Kreacher saved them. Come.”

He gestured for Ginny to follow, ambling his way downstairs and into the kitchen. He led Ginny to a row of cupboards at the far end, and she wondered how anyone could need so much storage.

The kitchens at Grimmauld Place much like the rest of the house, large and lavish, and seemingly forgotten. The dim light hardly reached the corners of the room, where cobwebs seemed to cluster in the murky shadows.

Kreacher opened two cupboard doors, revealing what Ginny guessed was a small shrine to Regulus Black. There were stacks of books, some spilling into an old pewter cauldron -- likely saved from his early Hogwarts days, and a small monogrammed handkerchief with the initials RAB stitched into the corner in elegant script. The cloth itself was worn and patched, but cherished.

“Did Regulus give you that?” Ginny asked, bending down to see in the cupboard.

Kreacher bowed his head and muttered, “A gift from Master Regulus… not clothes, not clothes.”

Ginny began to stand upright but froze, feeling as if there were eyes on her. She searched the darkness, feeling the prick of fear as it crawled down her spine.

At the back, behind the odd assortment of Regulus's old belongings, Ginny could make out the shape of a locket hanging on a chain. The front bore a large snake curved like an ‘S’, and the more Ginny looked, the more she could almost imagine the coil of the scales, the undulating waves drawing her in as the snake slithered… almost a whisper on the edge of hearing...

“Mistress?” Kreacher asked, holding a small stack of books, his voice unexpectedly sharp. “Kreacher has found them.”

“Oh, of course,” Ginny said, shaking herself. She took the stack of books, examining the spines for hints of their contents. “Thank you, Kreacher.”

Later that night, after Ginny had studied a few of the horrible texts that Regulus had collected, she turned fretfully in bed, haunted by the descriptions of terrible spells and cursed objects. She felt grimy with the knowledge of it, and very little had been of any practical use against Voldemort and his horcruxes.

But as dark and disturbing as the books were, they weren't what kept her from sleeping.

Something else was bothering her.

Ginny thought of the look on Kreacher’s face once he realized what had changed, after Sirius added her to the spell. Did he look betrayed, or had she imagined it?

She certainly felt like she’d betrayed him. And herself. The power to command felt vile in her mind, an unwelcome intrusion. It was against everything she’d learned about magical beings -- about people, a reminder of the dark days when wizards like Salazar Slytherin were in power, or during Merlin’s crusade.

Maybe this world was more like that one than she knew.

Could the spell be reversed?

Ginny hoped so, but in her heart she knew that the shame would remain, tainting her thoughts. She didn’t know how to fix what had happened, how to uncross the line.

The ache continued to build until she buried her face in her pillow, wanting to scream as she shook from the effort of holding it in. The tears felt hot against her cheek, absorbed in the pillowcase as she tried to breathe and calm herself down.

She needed to talk to Sirius. She needed to make this right.

* * *

Ginny stamped her boots on the walkway, kicking the dirty snow off the doorstep. It was a short walk from the Potters’ home to Ms. Bagshot’s for her annual New Year's Eve party, but Ginny was already shivering by the time she made it back inside.

"Hermione is here with her parents," Ron said, standing on his tiptoes to wave. He slipped past Ginny and made his way into the crowd, already waving to get her attention. "Come on, Harry!"

A hand reached out and grabbed her own, and Ginny looked up to see Ada. "Thank Merlin you're finally here, Ernie Macmillan has been trying to talk to me all night and I'm this close to telling him off. Let's go before he finds me again."

As Ginny followed her further into the house, the cold seemed to dissipate, and warmth spread through her body and prickled her skin as it wound its way to her fingertips. She examined her hands, curious how quickly the temperature had changed.

"It's a warming charm," Ada said, noticing her fascination, "it’s blanketing the entire house and grounds. Wait until you see how she's transfigured the dining room this year, it's like walking into a snow globe."

Ginny told Ada about Christmas with the Potters, pausing as they filled their plates with strange and extravagant foods in the kitchen, each taking a goblet of bubbling peppermint hot chocolate.

"So why are you avoiding Ernie?" Ginny asked

"He's just so boring. Last year he tried to teach me the rules of wizard chess, like I couldn't already beat him in under five minutes."

Ginny shrugged, "I don't know, he doesn't seem so bad. He helped Professor Sprout with the mandrakes last year, didn’t he?"

"I guess," Ada hummed, unconvinced. "Maybe it's because my parents want me to like him. He's 'an acceptable match from a good wizarding family', and there's nothing more boring than that."

The house was filled with packed tables and dancing guests, and they moved from room to room to find a place to sit. Each room was bursting with magic, but Ginny's stomach grumbled, so she contented herself with watching the flower petals that floated through the air, like confetti on an unseen current, pooling and swirling among the guests at the sound of laughter.

“Come on, I’ve already got gossip that I want to tell you about. Romilda is already here,” Ada hinted.

“What’s she up to now?” Ginny groaned.

“She’s been waiting over by the mistletoe to corner Harry, but it’s bewitched to float around the party and she's been chasing it for at least an hour. You don’t have any more canary creams, do you?”

“Not with me, I used all the ones that Fred and George gave me to test. She’d probably recognize it from when I got her last month, anyway. Maybe George has some hedgehog ones -- he got a caroler with one last week.”

Ada laughed, “She would be furious, it’s the perfect way to start the new year. Maybe we can slip her one during the starfall, in front of everyone, I bet she’d die of embarrassment...” She trailed off, groaning as she turned on to leave the room they'd just entered. “Come on, let’s go somewhere else.”

“But there are plenty of seats,” Ginny complained, hoping that her dinner hadn’t gone cold.

“Not here, my dad’s over there. He’ll want to introduce himself to you, and then he’ll embarrass me and I’ll need to spend the next hour listening to you laugh about it. There’s a big tent outside, I bet we can find…”

“Adala! There you are!”

“Too late,” Ada groaned.

“Didn’t I tell you to talk to the Macmillan’s about your painting lessons? You want your work hanging in their gallery one day, don’t you?”

“I’m showing Ginny around, dad. Besides, I just started my lessons, don’t you think it’s a bit early to brag about it?”

“It’s never too early to get your foot in the door.” Ada’s father turned to Ginny and offered his hand, “Azhar Shafiq. Such an honor to meet the Chosen One -- and best friends with my daughter! Perhaps it was fate? Why else would our little Adala end up a Gryffindor after three generations of Ravenclaws?”

“I’m lucky we’re in the same house,” Ginny said, shaking his hand. “Ada is as brave as any Gryffindor and clever as any Ravenclaw.”

“Yes, that’s our Adala, brave and brash, but still a Shafiq first! Perhaps she gets it from my grandfather, I expect he would have been a Gryffindor, had he attended Hogwarts. Has she ever told you about him?”

Ginny shook her head, and beside her Ada groaned. “Come on, dad, she doesn’t want to hear about great grandpa. We’re at a party, you’re embarrassing me.”

“Oh no, a father embarrassing his only daughter, such a terrible tragedy has never happened before, I weep for what you must endure,” Mr. Shafiq said, pretending to wipe his face. “Come now, Ada, be proud of your heritage!”

“Why do you think your grandfather would have been a Gryffindor?” Ginny asked Mr. Shafiq, and Ada sighed in resignation.

“See? It's interesting enough for the Girl Who Lived!” answered her dad, launching into the tale of how his grandfather left home for England as a young man to pursue his fortune.

“He’d made copies of the family’s secret potions recipes -- running away to England to start his own apothecary. He had to sign on as a muggle sailor and work for his passage to make the trip. And not even seventeen! He hid all of his equipment and ingredients in his bottomless rucksack, a veritable genius and every bit a rebel.”

"I had no idea," Ginny said. "Your grandfather definitely sounds like a Gryffindor."

"Or a Slytherin," Ada grumbled.

Mr. Shafiq waved her off, turning to Ginny, “In those days, the Shafiq family lands were on what was still part of India, but even today, Pakistan has a very advanced potions industry compared to the West. Britain only cares about wand-work, but we’re changing that. Grandfather’s business, Shafiq’s Apothecary, was wildly successful, of course, and once he had my father -- the first Shafiq Ravenclaw -- he earned the Shafiqs a spot among the Sacred Twenty-Eight.”

Ginny looked to Ada in question, and she rolled her eyes, “It’s the register of pureblood families in Britain. It’s a big deal among those families, but…”

“And a big deal for a first-generation immigrant like your great grandfather!” her father interrupted. “Within thirty years, already a major partner of St. Mungo’s and the Ministry of Magic, a position that has only strengthened since I took over, I might add.”

“Come on, dad, can we go now?” Ada pressed. “Ginny still hasn’t talked to Ms. Bagshot yet. You don't want her to look like a rude guest, do you?”

“You’re right, you must go and thank the host. Now, Ms. Weasley, you'll help keep my daughter in line, won't you?”

He smiled and left, Ada staring daggers at the back of his head as he walked away, and the sound of his laughter soon filled the room as he greeted another wizard.

“Sorry about that,” Ada said, watching Ginny from the corner of her eye. “He’s always networking and talking about the company, it’s so boring.”

“I liked the story about your great-grandfather.”

Ada shrugged, “What he forgot to tell you is that our family in Pakistan used to hate us because great-grandpa was a thief who ran off with family secrets. His older brother was planning on moving to London to expand the potions business, but called it off. They didn't even acknowledge our branch of the family until great-grandpa died a few years ago.”

Ginny nodded, she'd found that most families had some tension or messy secret; Sirius's family had been full of pureblood elitists who supported Voldemort, and Lily's muggle relatives refused to talk to the Potters at all, so a great-grandfather who'd caused a family schism didn't seem all that strange.

Later, after they'd eaten, Ginny and Ada went in search of their friends, latching on to the sound of Hermione's voice as she gushed about something to Ms. Bagshot.

"... and _Hogwarts, A History_ is my favorite of all, because there are so many incredible facts about the school, I must've read it a dozen times already."

Ms. Bagshot looked surprised, "Dear, I don't think my editors have read it that many times. But if you enjoyed the Ministry-sanctioned version of my books, I'm sure you'll enjoy some little tidbits I wasn't able to include."

"What do you mean?" asked Ada, her interest piqued.

"As a historian, I aim to be objective, but there are always those who seek to influence my work. I rebel against the notion, but I'm an old woman and the Ministry often gets its way, eventually."

"What does the Ministry want with history?" Ginny asked. After this summer, she had a good idea of the lies that the Ministry would tell to protect its image.

"They like having the last word on how to characterize certain events, or what parts to emphasize. Sometimes alternative perspectives are left out altogether, either for being too sympathetic to the victims of 'progress', or for being heretical -- what I like to call my forbidden histories."

"About Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

"About everything," Ms. Bagshot answered, her arm sweeping in a wide gesture as she reached for a glass from a passing tray.

“Oh, another sherry, thank you, Anthony,” she said, taking it with an exaggerated flair. “Normally I wouldn’t have more than two of these, but we’re celebrating, so I thought four might do the trick. Now, ladies, who would like to hear some forbidden history?”

Hermione was so excited that she raised her arm, and Ms. Bagshot looked at her with a bemused expression. “You’re not in class, dear, there's no need for any of that.”

"Why were there so many Goblin Rebellions?" asked Hermione. "It seems like they were constantly fighting for years and years."

"The real question you should ask yourself is _whose_ rule were the goblins rebelling against. Think of it from a goblin's perspective, and why they were willing to risk their lives to fight. The Ministry prefers not to address why they fought, but if you follow the wizard councils and Ministry edicts, you can find a clear path of action and reaction, cause and effect. Nothing just happens by itself, even in the world of magic."

That seemed to give Hermione pause, and Ginny had an idea.

"How about Merlin?" Ginny asked. "Are there things about him not in the history books?"

Ms. Bagshot shot her a wry smile and drained the rest of her sherry in one gulp. "There are quite a few things about Merlin kept from the history books; we often tell the biggest lies about our heroes, after all. What would you like to know?"

Ginny thought of all the things that Slytherin's portrait had told her about Merlin and the little bits she'd learned from Dobby, but what stuck out to her most were the barely remembered words from Firenze, about Avalon. This could be her chance to finally understand what it all meant.

"What was Avalon? And did Morgana really destroy it?"

Ms. Bagshot leaned in close, looking from side to side as if about to impart a great secret, “There's actually a particular text that I've... borrowed from the Ministry archives, called _The Preservation of Avalon_.”

"You don't mean that you've taken it?" whispered Hermione, her eyes alight with equal parts shock and reverence.

"They don’t need two copies when one will do, and it’s important to preserve these histories, ladies. You never know when some cowardly fool will want to burn books. Knowledge is sacred, and each of you should endeavor to preserve it.”

"By any means necessary?" Ada asked.

"Indeed!" laughed Ms. Bagshot. "Now, back to my exciting little borrowed text, which claims to be the true account of Merlin's defeat at the hands of the sorceress Morgan Le Fay, otherwise known as Morgana."

"Wait, Merlin's _defeat_?" asked Hermione, her eyes wide.

"So the book says," Ms. Bagshot answered, a sly grin stealing across her face. "Supposedly Morgana led some sort of coven against him -- at least, that is what I'm able to understand, the text is unclear. These sorceresses were the sworn protectors of the island of Avalon.

"Now young ladies," Ms. Bagshot continued, "what do our histories tell us about Morgana's battle with Merlin? Why were they fighting?"

Ada was the first to speak up. "That she was a dark sorceress who sought to rule the world with her magic, and that when she sensed that she couldn't defeat Merlin, she destroyed Avalon instead of letting him have it."

"Exactly. Now, does anyone see a problem with this story?"

Hermione raised her hand before blushing and pulling it back down, "If she was the sworn protector of her home, why would she destroy it?"

"Exactly, something doesn't add up. It sounds more like something a man would do, not a queen." Ms. Bagshot winked. "What lesson do you think the Ministry wants us to learn from this story? Who are we told is the villain?"

"We're told that Morgana is the villain. Maybe she didn't lose, maybe she stopped Merlin from getting whatever he really wanted," Ginny said. She was certain that Morgana's coven had been the witches that Slytherin's portrait had spoken of.

"And then the Ministry rewrote history as a cautionary tale against the ambitions of powerful women, told by those afraid to face it," Ms. Bagshot said. "But that doesn't tell us what really happened, does it?"

"Maybe the island wasn't what she was protecting at all," Ginny said, feeling as if she was on the cusp of a breakthrough. "Maybe she tricked Merlin into thinking she destroyed it so he couldn't find what he was really after."

"Does the book say what she was hiding?" Ada asked. "What was Merlin really after?"

"That, my dear," sighed Ms. Bagshot, "is something that even I don't know."

* * *

There was a soft chime nearby, and Ginny turned to see golden numbers shimmering on the wall, informing the guests that starfall would begin in fifteen minutes.

"Come on, let's go find a spot outside, I want to get good seats," Ada said, setting her plate and goblet aside.

"Let's find Harry and Ron first, I haven't seen them since the fire juggler, when they went back to find more cake."

Ada pretended to check a watch, "It's been far too long, I think we have to assume Romilda has kidnapped them. It's too bad. They were really starting to grow on me."

"You!" snapped a voice from behind Ginny, and Romilda strode up to them, fuming and nearly covered head to toe in dazzling glitter.

Ada snorted, "I didn't know you were performing in the starfall, Romi, but I'm excited about your debut performance. Break a leg," she said, a fake smile plastered to her face, "or _both_ of them."

"Very funny, Addy," she spat, her fists clenched at her sides. "I know it was one of you who got me covered in this horrible glitter, and I know it was one of you who played that disgusting prank on me last month!"

"What prank are you talking about, Romilda? Don't tell me someone's done something," Ginny said, feigning alarm.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about -- _the_ _canary_."

"The canary?" Ginny asked, "I thought you'd become an animagus! I was so impressed -- and as a first year, too."

Romilda glared at them before pushing her way past, her fists clenched as she stormed into the hallway. Little clouds of glitter puffed around her as she tried to wipe it off, but the glitter only swirled along her wake, sticking to her wherever she'd just wiped it off.

"Merlin, was that Romilda?" Harry said as he approached, crouching behind Ron. "I think she's been following me. What do you think she wants?"

"Probably trying to slip you a love potion." Ada smirked, nodding to his goblet, "You have been watching that all night, haven't you?"

Harry gulped and his face paled, and he turned to dump the rest of his drink into a planter beside the back door. The plant seemed to notice, arching its long stems as it tried to snap at his hand with its clam-like flowers.

Ginny laughed, watching as color crept up Harry's neck.

"Let's go find seats already," complained Ron, urging them along.

Harry grinned sheepishly, and Ginny felt full to bursting, floating quietly alongside him as they followed Ron outside.

It didn't take long to find a spot on the hill, and they all shared a large blanket, laying on their backs to watch Dedalus Diggle's famous falling stars.

"Where's Hermione?" Ginny asked, peering across the lawn. Even outside the air was warm, and some sort of spell was keeping the snow from falling around them.

"With her parents," Ron answered, and Ginny was certain she heard a hint of disappointment in his voice. He glanced around nervously, "You haven't seen Fred and George lately, have you?"

"Not since we got here. Want me to help you find them?" Ginny offered.

"No, thanks, they always try to… oh, nevermind. Just warn me if you see them."

When the countdown reached one minute, Ada slipped away to find another hot chocolate before the starfall began. The crowd murmured in anticipation, and couples found their way to each other, the music building to a crescendo. At ten seconds, everyone counted down, and it surprised Ginny to hear Fred and George's voices beside them.

"Ron…" she hissed, jerking her head toward them.

He turned and saw them, eyes wide with shock, and scrambled to his feet, dodging through the crowd as the twins chased him.

"Are they trying to give him a kiss on the cheek at midnight?" Ginny asked, laughing as Ron dove through a hedge as he tried to escape.

Harry nodded, "They get him every year."

Ginny smiled and met Harry's gaze, realizing for the first time that they were now alone.

_"... three… two… one..."_

At zero, a wizard in a brilliant purple cloak shot a spell into the sky, as if aiming a bow and arrow, and the crowd raised a cheer. The couples all leaned in close, kissing at midnight, but Ginny watched as the spell burst through clouds and arced into the night.

Brilliant light rippled outward, as if he'd pierced the sky. Streaks of light fell, cascading in elegant lines that swirled and swayed to the wizard's will.

Ginny felt lips press against her cheek -- only for a moment -- and turned to see Harry sitting next to her, his face red with embarrassment and so close to hers that she could see starlight reflected in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I saw everyone else and I… I thought maybe…" Harry tried, his eyes darting around as if looking for an exit. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have, I think I'll just… go…"

She watched him walk away, her hand ghosting over her cheek, but unable to do anything else. Harry had kissed her cheek. The realization of it seemed too much to grasp; surely it was a mistake, or a dream she'd soon wake from.

Ginny was dimly aware of people moving around her, and the stars still falling in the sky above, but somehow it didn't feel like she was a part of that world. Her cheek felt warm, and she thought she could still remember how it felt to have his lips pressed against it.

But Harry had left, disappearing back into the house. Why didn't she say anything to him? Is that why he'd gone?

Ginny felt herself beginning to spiral, worried about all the things she should've said or done, until Ada sat beside her, grinning madly.

"Merlin, Ginny, you should have seen the look on Harry's face just now!" She winked, throwing her arm around Ginny, "I saw him kiss you! I wish Colin were here to take a photograph. We could have slipped a copy to Romilda to rub it in."

"It was only on the cheek," Ginny said, her nervousness quickly thrown aside as she latched onto Ada's enthusiasm.

"You're blushing almost as much as he was!"

"Only because you're trying to embarrass me," Ginny protested, but there was no bite in it.

"Someone needs to keep you humble," said Ada, nudging Ginny.

Watching the stars fall across the sky, shoulder to shoulder with her best friend, Ginny was certain that this year would be her best one yet.

* * *

Ginny pulled on her blanket, trying to twist it from Ada's grip. Ada was fine as a roommate, but as a sleepover guest, she hogged the covers far too much for Ginny's liking.

Bunching up her pillow, Ginny tried to find a position that felt comfortable, but she was too excited to sleep. She wanted to turn and gush about what had happened at the party, even though she knew Ada would tease her for it.

_Harry had kissed her on the cheek._

Ginny felt giddy with the thought of it, like she'd been told a delicious secret that was hers and hers alone. Harry hadn't said anything to her for the rest of the night, but he hadn't avoided her either, instead laughing with Ron as they walked back home, his eyes darting to her from time to time as she reassured him with a smile.

"I bet I can guess what you're thinking about," said Ada, turning to face Ginny. The room was dark, but Ginny was certain she could see the shape of Ada's smirk. "Your thoughts are so loud I can practically hear them."

Ginny felt her cheeks warm, and she was glad that Ada couldn't see them. "I'm just trying to get comfortable, I have no idea what you mean."

Ada snorted. "Liar, you're daydreaming about the kiss, I know it!"

“It wasn’t _really_ a kiss, just on the cheek,” Ginny insisted, “and keep quiet! What if he overhears you?”

"Please," Ada laughed, "I'm practically whispering. He obviously likes you if he kissed you in the cheek!"

“Fine, if you’re so interested, I was daydreaming about it.”

“Ha! I said so!”

"Don't make me regret inviting you to spend the night," Ginny grumbled, though secretly she was pleased that Ada was so excited.

"Me?" Ada asked, feigning offense. "I'm a model guest. Fine, what would you rather talk about since you don't want to celebrate your big success?"

“Since Ernie is _so boring_ ,” Ginny mimicked, “was there anyone else you had your eye on?”

“Not tonight,” Ada said. “I was too busy avoiding Ernie and my parents to get a proper look anyway.”

“I can’t believe I forgot to ask your dad for embarrassing stories about you. I bet he would have told me some really good ones.”

“I don’t have embarrassing stories,” Ada shot back, “but he could talk about the weather and still find a way to embarrass me. _Oh Adala, look how blue the sky is today. If only you could have been a Ravenclaw, then this glorious color would mean something to you_.”

They only stopped laughing when Ginny thought she heard the floorboards creak outside her door, each pretending to sleep until it was clear no one was there.

“What about painting?” Ginny finally asked, remembering what Ada’s father had mentioned at the party. “I didn’t know that you liked to paint.”

Ada was quiet for a while, and Ginny was worried that she'd overstepped.

“When I was younger.”

"But not anymore?"

"I used to paint for myself, for fun. But when I got older and better, it was suddenly who I was -- Ada the painter. Instead of painting for fun, I had practice schedules and lessons and tutors telling me that my 'perspective was amateur' or that I was holding the brush wrong. I started to dread it, so I quit."

“Were your parents angry?” Ginny asked. She had seen her share of overbearing parents when she was playing football; parents who shouted from the sidelines, or coaches who gave their own son or daughter a dressing down for even the tiniest mistakes.

“They were disappointed. To them, giving up is weak. You’re supposed to figure out what you’re good at, and then just work at it until you’re the best. But I was different: impulsive and overly emotional, certainly not Ravenclaw material.”

Ginny thought of what Ada’s father had said about her being a Gryffindor, and all the pieces fell into place. Something had bothered her in that moment, as if her words were kind, but there was a secret joke behind it, an insult toward Ada hidden below the surface.

"After my brothers made it into Hogwarts, I was excited to learn everything they were learning. I couldn’t wait to go to Hogwarts, so I kept all their old textbooks and tried to teach myself what I could. I didn’t have a wand yet, so there was only so much magic I could do. Many of the potion recipes were wandless, and we have a lab at home, so it stuck.”

“Getting a head start? No wonder you’re so good at potions,” Ginny teased. “I didn’t even know I was a witch until three weeks before school started.”

“Trust me, _all_ the pureblood families do that sort of thing. Private magical tutors before Hogwarts, lessons on how to run a household or an estate.” Ada sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, her voice softer now. “After what happened with painting, I kept all the potions stuff a secret. Sneaking into the lab and stealing ingredients, little bits at a time so no one would notice.”

“How Slytherin of you,” Ginny joked.

Ada stuck her tongue out, “Hey -- I’m clever _and_ brave, remember?”

“Don’t forget ‘humble’!” Ginny laughed, and Ada gave her a playful shove. “Did anyone ever catch you making potions?”

“Once,” Ada sighed. “When I was nine, I snuck into the lab to get some ingredients, and I mixed up two powders. I thought I was grabbing powdered root of Asphodel, but when I dropped it in, the potion exploded and cracked the cauldron. Some of it sprayed on my stomach and I had to be rushed to St. Mungo’s. After that, I wasn’t allowed back into the lab. They still haven’t let me back in, even though I’m top of the class in potions. But all they ever do is remind me of ‘the accident’, as if I could forget where the scars came from.”

“I’m sorry,” Ginny said, worried she’d pushed too far. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

Ada was quiet for a few moments. “I almost thought they were going to forbid me from coming to Hogwarts, when it first happened. They were so furious, like they were the ones who’d been hurt. Like this one mistake was proof that I was a screw-up and wasn't worth their attention.”

Ginny reached out and grabbed Ada’s hand, hoping that Ada understood how important she was. "If your parents think that, they're idiots. No one else figured out about the basilisk or found the Chamber, not for hundreds of years, and you did both when you were eleven! They just don't know you like I do," Ginny said, meaning every word. How could they, if they didn’t think the world of Ada?

"Yeah, I think you're probably right. Maybe they don't really know me after all."


	11. Harvest

_Your voice will not laugh_

_No happiness to plead_

_Who will speak on my behalf?_

_Who will harvest my yield?_

_It’s a poison to give up_

_I’m not sufficient enough_

_To sink in_

_Come closer, my love_

_Let’s drown in misery_

_There is an ocean of possibilities_

  * _ionnalee & TR/ST, 2018_



* * *

Ginny passed through stone arches and onto the Viaduct, listening to the wind whistle against the rocky outcroppings in the chasm below. She hadn't come to Hogwarts by this route before; most of her trips to and from Hogsmeade were along with the rest of the students in the Thestral carriages at the start and end of term, or through secret passages that snaked below the school.

This year, the Potters had all traveled to Hogsmeade a day early to meet with Dumbledore on Order of the Phoenix business, stealing away to a private room in the Three Broomsticks.

Ginny didn't know much about Hogsmeade and had looked forward to exploring it, but Harry and Ron were eager to get back to Hogwarts so they could use their brooms and start doing magic again. There would be plenty of time to explore next year during Hogsmeade weekends, she supposed.

She trudged through the snow behind them, cradling Cleo in her arms. For a moment, the chill in the air seemed to cut through her coat, rattling in her bones like a living thing. Ginny gripped her wand and pulled her cloak tighter against the cold, certain a dementor patrolled far above.

Best not to linger.

“Let’s head down to the pitch,” Harry said, eyes flicking upward as he increased his pace. “I haven’t flown in ages and I miss my broom.”

“I’ll meet up with you in a bit, I want to bring Cleo up to the common room,” Ginny said. “You two go ahead, you can borrow the Firebolt until I get down there.”

“Wicked! Race you to the pitch, Harry,” Ron shouted, setting off at a run. “First one there gets Ginny’s broom!”

Harry sprinted after him, then drew his wand and hit Ron with a jelly-legs jinx. Ron tumbled into a snowdrift and shouted, “Wanker!” narrowly missing Harry with a body-bind hex.

“If either of you hits me, the broom offer is gone!” Ginny shouted, dodging around them as she made her way toward the castle. “And a bat bogey hex when you least expect it!”

Cleo stretched in Ginny’s arms, twisting as she tried to get to the ground.

“You won’t like it down there,” Ginny admonished, allowing the kneazle to leap down. Cleo landed softly, her feet only just sinking into the snow. She stretched languidly, at peace despite the cold, and looked back as if to say, _‘Is there a problem?’_

Ahead was the castle, snow frosting the tips of the towers and crenulations in a blanket of perfect white. The grounds all around them were quiet, the wind occasionally whipping down from the faraway mountains and sending showers of snow from the treetops.

Further down the grounds, Ginny could see smoke curling from Hagrid’s hut, and she smiled, thinking of his Christmas gift of rock cakes. Lily had managed to make them more edible, but even then Ginny had been afraid of chipping a tooth.

She clutched her coat tighter around her, snug despite the cold. Colin and Ada would be here soon, and then classes and quidditch would start, and she’d be wrapped in the excitement of Hogwarts, away from the nightmares and the plots and the Ministry.

It had been a tough year so far, but Ginny was feeling optimistic about this term. Things with Harry were good -- they hadn’t spoken about the kiss on the cheek at New Years, but he wasn’t avoiding her either. Sometimes she would catch him watching her out of the corner of her eye, and he’d blush and turn away. It was a lucky thing, because as often as not, she found herself blushing, too.

Ginny didn’t see another soul the whole way to the common room. Aside from ghosts, of course. Nearly Headless Nick gave her a cursory wave, but he was soon complaining to the Fat Friar again about his continued rejection from the Headless Hunt.

“... if I could go back and convince them to take it off in one fell swoop, I would! You know I would!”

“Of course, Sir Nicholas, and who wouldn’t, in your position?”

She smiled, thinking of the strange group that had asked her about Myrtle’s disappearance, and Luna’s excitement at recording all of their stories and requests. She understood what had happened with Myrtle now, but it wasn’t as if that would help any of the others, unless they too were murdered to create a horcrux.

When Ginny reached the stairs, she took them two at a time, dumping the contents of her bag out onto her bed to put away later. Cleo leapt and landed lightly on the mattress, curling up in a small sliver of sun. Ginny was about to turn and head for the pitch when her eyes caught the Marauders’ Map among her belongings, one corner creased slightly by a book.

Ginny hesitated, then went back and opened the map, tapping it lightly and whispering the incantation, _‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.’_ Lines spread across the page, outlining the school in a beautiful ripple of ink.

There weren’t many professors or students back at Hogwarts at the moment, but there were still a few wandering around the castle or holed up in their rooms. She could clearly see Fred and George out on the great lawn, and Harry and Ron were zooming across the quidditch pitch from end to end.

Ginny traced the route to the dungeons, looking to see if Professor Slughorn was here. She’d gathered a few books on dark objects from Sirius’s home -- all Regulus’s old things that Kreacher had helped her find, though she doubted they would be of any use. Still, Slughorn would know best if there was something useful, but he wasn't in his office at the moment.

She lifted her wand, about to wipe the map, and stopped. There it was again, a small dot and the name _Nymphadora Tonks_ , alone in Professor Lupin’s office.

It wasn’t the first time Ginny had seen this. She had run into Tonks outside Lupin’s office after one of his lessons, and again when Tonks’s name had appeared in Lupin’s office after her last practice session with Harry, the first and only time she cast a true Patronus.

Professor Lupin must be meeting with Dumbledore and the Potters, and maybe that was where Professor Slughorn was, too. It was probably the entire Order of the Phoenix meeting, though James and Lily hadn’t told her details about it. But if it was really a meeting with the entire Order, wouldn’t Tonks be there too? She certainly _should_ be.

Ginny thought about the Voldemort nightmare from the start of term, in particular the man who claimed that he could infiltrate anywhere on his master’s behalf. Tonks seemed nice, of course, but her ability to change her features and all the sneaking around made Ginny suspicious.

_What if Tonks was really an imposter? What if she was stealing Order secrets while Lupin and the other Order members were away?_

With a sigh, Ginny made up her mind, folding the map and stowing it and her wand in her robes. Then she took the invisibility cloak and slipped it around her shoulders, glancing in the mirror to make sure she remained hidden.

It was time to investigate.

The walk to Professor Lupin’s office seemed much longer than normal, but perhaps that was because Ginny kept checking the map to make sure that Tonks was still there. The dot moved around from time to time, but it mostly stayed still, centered on the spot where Ginny was certain Lupin’s desk was.

Tonks was still there by the time she reached Lupin’s office, and Ginny stood outside a moment to prepare herself.

Now that she was outside his door, she hesitated. Was it safe to go in alone, or was she walking into a trap? Sure, she was invisible, but sometimes Moody could see things through walls with his magical eye.

What if this intruder could see her under the cloak? What if she did nothing, and this imposter got away with it?

Ginny wiped the map and steeled herself, taking a deep breath before she grabbed the handle and twisted, only to find it locked. After a whispered _alohomora_ , she opened the door as quietly as possible and slipped inside.

Sounds of paper and books being thrown aside came from down the hallway, leading into the classroom proper.

_Tonks must be rifling through Professor Lupin’s desk!_

Ginny sped up and rounded the corner, the classroom coming into full view.

Tonks was indeed there, though she was sitting on Lupin’s desk instead of looking through it, her hands slowly unbuttoning her blouse as she laughed. Professor Lupin stood close to her, leaning forward to kiss her as Tonks’s hair shimmered through an array of brilliant colors. Lupin laughed, tugging his shirt over his head as she ran her fingers along his sides.

Old scars covered Lupin’s back, the jagged lines a patchwork of mottled white, long ago healed. Ginny stared at the scene, feeling her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to back away. She wanted to turn and run, but she was too surprised to look anywhere else. If she had, she might have noticed the coat rack standing behind her, which she tripped over as she tried to escape.

Ginny tumbled to the ground, the invisibility cloak catching on a bookcase and dumping her onto the floor. Both Tonks and Lupin gasped, and Lupin rushed to pull his shirt back on, nearly falling himself.

Tonks gave a throaty laugh and hopped off the table, buttoning her blouse as she came to help Ginny off the floor. She offered her hand, grinning wickedly, but Ginny couldn’t meet her eye.

“What are you sneaking around for, Ginny?” Professor Lupin snapped, his cheeks a brilliant red. After a moment, he took a deep breath and seemed to compose himself, running his hand through his hair as he looked to Ginny. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout, you just startled me. Wasn't the door locked?”

"No," Ginny lied, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks.

Lupin sighed, "I suppose that's on me, then. Did you need something, Ginny?"

“Oh, no, it can wait,” Ginny said hurriedly, picking up the cloak and slipping it under her arm. How was she supposed to explain herself? That she was spying on Tonks with the help of her stolen map? She needed to get as far away from here as possible.

And why hadn’t Lupin's name shown up on the map?

As Ginny turned to go, the map slipped out of the cloak and fell on the floor. She reached for it, but Professor Lupin summoned it with a flick of his wand, the parchment drifting away from her and into his outstretched hand.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, unfolding it and staring at the blank spread. He seemed more surprised than angry, running his fingers over it reverently before he looked to her.

“Oh, it’s nothing, just some spare parchment.”

Lupin gave her a wolfish grin, “That wasn’t the question I asked -- I know what this is, just not how you got it.”

Ginny exhaled. He knew what it was -- how was that possible?

“I nicked it from Filch,” she said finally. It wasn’t a lie, and she didn’t want to implicate Fred and George in case she was about to get in trouble.

“What is it?” Tonks asked, standing and joining Lupin. “It doesn’t look like much.”

“You know better than anyone that looks can be deceiving,” he said, pulling out his wand and tapping the center of the page. Lines blossomed from the tip, swirling and curving as they built the boundaries of Hogwarts once again. “This,” he said, waving his hand as he presented the map in its full glory, “is the Marauders’ Map. To this day, one of the most advanced pieces of magic I’ve ever been a part of.”

“You made the map?” Ginny asked, unable to hide her astonishment.

“Yes, though not alone.” He pointed out the names that appeared in a curling script near the top, tapping on ‘Moony’. “This one is me, but you know a few of the others; James is Prongs, and Sirius is Padfoot.”

“And Wormtail?” Ginny asked. The smile on Lupin’s face faltered.

“A story for another time, perhaps,” he said, unable to meet her eye.

“Remus, this is incredible!” Tonks exclaimed, tracing the outline of the school and following the little dots and names as they scurried about Hogwarts. “I knew there was a bit of a rebel streak in you, but this surpasses all expectations. You ought to be proud of yourself.”

Lupin smiled, “Yes, we certainly were troublemakers. With the map and James’s cloak, we probably explored more of Hogwarts than even Dumbledore.”

“Hang on, I don’t see you on here,” Tonks said, now leaving over the parchment. “Is there something wrong with it? It’s only Ginny and me in your office -- see here?”

“Yes, that’s another bit of magic we managed. Only the Marauders can see each other on the map.” Lupin gave Ginny a significant look, “Is that why you snuck into my office? To follow Tonks?”

Ginny felt her face heat at the suggestion, “I didn’t know you were in here, too. I thought Tonks might be sneaking around your office while you were away. Sorry,” she added, looking to Tonks. “I thought maybe you were someone else, since you can change how you look.”

Lupin grinned. “The enchantments and runes of Hogwarts are much too clever for that. No matter who she looks like, it will still show _Nymphadora Tonks_.”

He pointed to another spot out on the lawn, where two dots ran back and forth, _Fred Weasley_ and _George Weasley_. “While you can’t see it, there is a third name here -- _Sirius Black_.”

Lupin strode to the window and pointed outside as a large black dog ran across the snow, carrying a stick while Fred and George whooped and chased after him.

“Merlin, he makes a better dog than a person,” Tonks laughed. “Maybe I can convince him to stay like that.”

“Oh, we tried for years,” Lupin answered.

“But how does all of this work?” Tonks asked, gesturing to the map. “Monitoring spells and enchantments fade in a few hours.”

“That’s where the real genius comes in.” Lupin explained that there was a runic tapestry carved into the bedrock below the school, enhanced with century upon century of enchantments and hidden where only the Headmaster and the Hogwarts ghosts knew to tread.

Different sections dealt with different aspects of the school’s protection and operation, like a cascading code of rules and instructions, and the Marauders had found the section that dealt with the comings and goings of students and teachers.

“It took us months to figure out what we’d found, and even longer to understand how to manipulate it. In the end, it only took a few small -- and precise -- changes. We enchanted the map to mimic the information from the runes and wards, allowing Hogwarts to create the map for us. Then, we adjusted how the wards and shields read our presence so we could come and go as we pleased, without the school or anyone else finding out.” Lupin smiled, his eyes alight as Tonks listened with rapt attention.

“And how did you manage that, _Moony_?” she asked.

“Do you notice anyone else who doesn’t appear on the map?”

There were ghosts and professors, students and faculty -- who else was it missing? Ginny thought of Kreacher, always fading into the background, like an afterthought, and then she had it, the group that even _Hogwarts, A History_ overlooked.

“You made the school think you were house-elves!”

“Brilliant, Ginny, you're exactly right. While there are dozens of overlapping and interlocking wards that deal with wizards and magical beasts, there is nothing related to the comings and goings of house-elves. Probably because the school has so often viewed them as replaceable and interchangeable.”

And there it was again; house-elves were forgotten, discounted. Property, not people. But the Marauders -- James, Sirius, and Professor Lupin -- used the loophole to their advantage, turning it against its purpose, and that brought Ginny hope.

Sometimes she felt overwhelmed by the forces stacked against her, but they underestimated her, too. Slytherin’s portrait never suspected that she had killed his precious basilisk, just as Tom never expected her to destroy his diary.

Perhaps being underestimated wasn’t a problem, but an advantage, and everyone who looked down on house-elves and other magical beings deserved to have that advantage used against them.

“How were you able to use this, Ginny? We never left it with instructions.”

“I was taught.”

“Taught by whom?”

Ginny remained silent, and Tonks barked with laughter.

Lupin smirked, gesturing out the window, “I’m sure I could guess. We always wanted someone to find it, we even enchanted bits of ourselves into the map so it could choose our successors.”

“Like the Sorting Hat?” Tonks asked.

 _Or Tom’s diary_. Ginny suppressed the urge to shudder.

Lupin reached out his wand and tapped lightly in the center of the map, “What makes one worthy of possessing the Marauders’ Map?”

The map slowly faded from view, as if the ink was sinking back into the parchment. Thin script swirled from the center, spelling out messages from each of the Marauders.

_The Marauders humbly request that those who use the map repeat a creed as a show of good faith, they must solemnly swear that they are up to no good._

_Prongs believes a proper troublemaker must have perfect hair and a flare for adventure._

_Padfoot wants a fellow explorer willing to find every secret passage and room in Hogwarts -- especially those places expressly forbidden._

_Moony says that mischief is best when planned and prepared, and prefers methodical pranksters._

_Wormtail thinks map keepers should be cautious -- something as important as the map can’t fall into the wrong hands._

Upon seeing the last one, Lupin froze, staring at the name. Ginny said nothing, hoping she would learn the story of the mysterious Wormtail, but after a moment, Lupin wiped the map clean with a wave of his wand.

Ginny reached out her hand, but Lupin hesitated, folding the map instead. “This might be best left with Headmaster Dumbledore, or perhaps one of the Order,” he said, eyes darting to Tonks.

Ginny was ready to fight that idea, but Tonks stepped in first. “I don’t know, Remus. Ginny’s clearly done a good job of monitoring it herself. She caught us when even Mad-Eye hasn’t. Let her keep it,” she said, and then, to Ginny, “and you’ll keep our secret, too, won’t you?”

"Of course," Ginny nodded, taking the map from Lupin's hand. He watched as if he was ready to snatch it back, but Tonks only tsk-tsked at him.

"Give it up, your adventuring days are over, old man," Tonks said, nudging him. "That's what you wanted with the map in the first place, isn't it? Moody and I have the grounds covered, no one in or out that we don't know about, including your secret passages."

Lupin huffed, but relented, and Ginny hid the map away in her cloak. "Alright, Ginny, but promise me one thing? Next time you visit, please remember to knock."

Ginny felt her face go scarlet, and she mumbled a quick, "I promise," before rushing to the door. By the time she was out, she could already hear Tonks giggling again, so Ginny covered her ears and ran down the hall, wishing she knew how to cast a memory charm on herself.

* * *

Ginny took a deep breath and stepped forward, looking to Colin and Ada for support. They each gave her an encouraging smile, fresh off their own successes of defeating Professor Lupin’s boggart. Colin still looked pale after his encounter with a giant snake, but some color had returned to his face and his hand wasn't shaking quite so much anymore.

Across the room, Ginny could see Moody and Tonks step away from the wall they’d been leaning against to get a better view. The rest of the class seemed to be waiting for this moment, the air of good cheer dwindling into an expectant silence as she faced the wardrobe.

“Alright, Ginny, are you ready?”

She nodded, thinking of the dozens upon dozens of times she’d stood in this same position, wand poised to face what the boggart would become.

Her mind swam with hope as she willed every moment she could muster to the surface, harnessing them for her spell. She almost felt sorry for the boggart. It wouldn't stand a chance.

Lupin stepped back, flicking his wand at the wardrobe. The door swung open to reveal a gaping black maw, darkness spilling along the floor and pooling like mist.

Ginny's breath caught in her throat as the dementor glided forward, hand extended toward her as it drew a rattling breath. The temperature in the room dropped to freezing, but Ginny was ready.

“ _Expecto Patronum!”_ she shouted, aiming directly at the dementor’s face.

White light exploded from her wand as her Patronus burst forth, shaking its mane as it reared on its hind legs to charge. The dementor froze, cowering as the horse struck with its hooves and chased it back into the wardrobe. Like falling snow, the horse shimmered and disappeared, the room dull in its absence.

“Excellently done,” Lupin announced, “but I’m afraid you’ll need to try that again. Remember, we’re casting _‘riddikulus’_ against the boggart, alright?”

Ginny felt the blood rush to her face -- she’d practiced her Patronus so long against this boggart she forgot the whole point of the test. Her eyes flicked over to Tonks and Moody, who were deep in conversation, smiles playing at the edge of their lips.

She took another deep breath, exhaling slowly as she drilled the spell into her brain.

_Riddikulus -- riddikulus -- riddikulus. Think of something funny to turn a dementor into._

Perhaps she could change the robes? It should be something tacky, like Ms. Cameron used to wear, the more garish the better.

“I’m ready,” she said, imagining the dementor cowering as the class laughed. She could do this.

This time, as the door swung slowly open, there was no cold or dark or fear. A hand appeared, delicate and fully alive, holding a familiar green book. Ginny’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at the book, certain of who stood in front of her even before she saw his face.

He wore a wicked grin, and there was something _wrong_ in his eyes that sent ice down her spine.

“Hello, Ginevra,” said Tom, his voice sweet and overripe. “It’s been so long, why don’t you write to me anymore? You know how I care for you.”

Ginny backed away, her wand shaking in her hand. Try as she might, she couldn’t think of a single thing to make Tom Riddle look ridiculous. She raised her arm, trying to summon the courage, and said, “ _riddikulus,”_ though the spell came out mumbled.

Tom’s smile grew as nothing happened, his eyes bright with menacing delight as he walked toward her, hand outstretched. “I’m sorry, Ginny, I didn’t catch that. Want to try again? Perhaps you need the proper incentive.”

He snatched at her wand, and Ginny stumbled, trying to distance herself from Tom. He laughed, the sound cold and brittle in her ears, and waved his fingers toward the floor.

Darkness fell around her, and the sound of running water filled her ears. Ginny looked down to see Harry’s lifeless form, bathed in flickering green light, the last bits of color draining from his face as Tom became whole.

_This can’t be real… This can’t be happening…_

The cold of the stone floor pressed against her back as her heart raced in her chest. When had she fallen? Tom’s leering face loomed over her, his outstretched fingers growing into claws as he reached for her.

Professor Lupin stepped in front of Ginny, his arms wide to shield her from the boggart. Tom froze and stared, swirling into a cloud of billowing smoke. The walls of the Chamber disappeared, and Ginny looked into the night sky to see a full moon burning bright. Wind rushed through her hair, whispering _gnash and thrash and slash and rip and rend and..._

“ _Riddikulus!”_ shouted Lupin, his eyes tired as he stared at the shimmering moon. The darkness receded, and the moon shrank into a red balloon he popped with the tip of his wand, swirling in the air before shooting into the wardrobe.

Once the door closed, Ginny began to breathe again. Her hands still shook, so she wrapped her arms around her knees, wishing she could shut the world away.

“That’s enough for today, class dismissed,” said Lupin. He offered Ginny a hand and whispered, “But I’d like you to stay behind for a moment.”

She sighed and told Ada and Colin to go on without her. Professor Lupin meant well, but Ginny wasn’t ready to face the boggart again -- not today. The image of Harry on the floor haunted her, and Tom had looked so _real_ , even more than she'd remembered in the Chamber.

“Are you alright?” Lupin asked, concern etched across his face. “Was that… _him_? As a student?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“You were expecting to see a dementor when I opened the door,” he said, his eyes searching. It wasn’t a question. “What were you going to do to it?”

“Give it an awful dress, maybe a wig or a frilly hat.”

Professor Lupin laughed. “I’m sure that would have worked wonderfully. I was very impressed by your Patronus, I didn’t realize that you mastered it. Was that your first time?”

“Second,” Ginny answered, but thinking of her practice sessions with Harry only brought on the memory of his body on the floor, drained of life, and she shivered.

“Well now, that isn’t something you see every day. A second year casting a full Patronus? There’s hope for you yet, Weasley.” Moody clapped Ginny heavily on the shoulder and she nearly stumbled in response.

“She’s a clever one, she’ll figure out the boggart,” Tonks said, winking at Ginny.

Ginny blushed, thinking of what she’d interrupted in Lupin’s office, and hurriedly pushed those thoughts away.

“If she remains vigilant!” Moody said, punctuating his words with a thump of his walking stick. “Constant vigilance -- the moment you don’t take one of these beasts seriously is the moment they have the advantage. Anticipate their next move, let the fear keep you sharp and focused. I saw the Potter boy on the ground. You’re like I was, afraid you won’t be enough to protect people.”

Ginny disagreed but said nothing, only nodding before turning to go.

Seeing the boggart in Tom’s form had brought a different fear to the surface -- becoming him. Ever since Olivander’s tale about her wand and what she’d witnessed during her Sorting, Ginny had time and again faced uncomfortable truths about her connection to Voldemort.

_Did it mean something that Tom had infiltrated her mind and possessed her?_

_Was there some part of him still there?_

She could speak parseltongue, and the only wand that shared a twin core with Voldemort’s own had chosen her. Slytherin’s portrait, down in the Athenaeum, believed her to be his heir, and then there were the nightmares where she saw the world through Voldemort’s eyes.

_Did Tom always know that he would be evil? Did he too fear what he might become, at the beginning?_

Ginny leaned against the wall by the door, letting her head rest against the stone. No -- if the experience with the Sorting Hat meant anything, it was that she had a choice, and so had Tom. He’d known exactly what he was doing, and he’d made that same choice every step of the way.

She could still hear Moody talking to Tonks and Lupin from inside the classroom, the sound of his stick thumping from time to time as he spoke.

“... her mother’s Patronus was a horse, too. I was with Dumbledore when Molly sent it, warnin’ us to head to the Burrow, saying that she’d ensured Ginny’s safety but that Voldemort had found them. That was the night she died.”

Ginny froze, barely even breathing as she listened. Her mum’s Patronus had been a horse, too. She didn’t know much about Molly Weasley, not really, but this bit of knowledge made her feel close, like her mum had somehow reached beyond the grave and ghosted her fingers across Ginny’s skin.

“What happened that night?” Tonks asked, uncertainty in her voice. “Wasn’t there a Fidelius Charm in place?”

There was a pause before Moody answered, and Ginny made a mental note to find out what a Fidelius Charm was.

“Yes, of course. Fabian Prewett was the secret keeper. Everyone in the Order knew. It was a mistake, we realized. When Fabian died, we knew that someone had sold out the Weasleys.”

“But who would do that?”

“Peter Pettigrew,” answered Lupin, his voice full of a bitterness that Ginny had never heard from him. “He was one of us, part of the inner circle. When Fabian died, the entire Order of the Phoenix became secret keepers.”

“Pettigrew? As in…?” Tonks asked, uncertain.

“One and the same,” Lupin answered, though Ginny didn’t understand who they were talking about. “As a secret keeper, he went back to his master and betrayed the Weasleys. The attack came only a few hours after that.”

“How did Ginny survive? What did Molly do?”

“We may never know…” started Moody, but Ginny could hardly process the words. She slipped out the door as quietly as possible, leaving Lupin’s classroom behind her as she wandered aimlessly. It didn’t matter where she was going, as long as it wasn’t _here_.

Minutes later, Ginny began to calm, the truth of her parents’ betrayal still swirling in her mind. It had been a member of the Order -- someone they trusted, someone they considered an ally, maybe even a friend. Her hands shook in her lap, her knuckles white with strain as she gripped her robes, trying to force her breathing back to normal.

A soft thud echoed from nearby, and Ginny looked up to see Moody coming toward her, leaning heavily on his stick.

“I thought you might be here,” he said, lifting his stick to point at the door just down the hall from her. The door that led to Myrtle’s old bathroom -- and the Chamber of Secrets.

Ginny shuddered, wondering what had directed her feet along this path.

“I expect you heard all of that in the classroom,” Moody stated, his voice calm despite the storm that surged in Ginny’s mind. “I could tell you were sticking around, but you had a right to know all of that.”

“You knew?” Ginny asked, eyes flicking to his face in surprise.

Moody pointed to his false eye, currently spinning in its socket. “Can see through most walls and wards with this one,” he said, then pointed at the other one, “and can see through most bollocks with this one.”

Ginny snorted and stood, straightening out her robes. “Thank you for letting me hear. I didn’t know who betrayed my parents, or that my mum had a horse Patronus, too. Does that happen often?”

Moody scratched idly at his chin, “I suppose it isn’t uncommon. Dumbledore would know better than me. Now chin up, Weasley, that boggart won’t defeat itself.”

Ginny thanked him and left, her mind buzzing with everything she’d just learned. Did Ron and the twins know? Probably not, if even the Potters hadn’t told her. And as much as she wanted revenge on this Peter Pettigrew, she knew she wouldn’t be the only one.

Taking a deep breath, Ginny turned for the Gryffindor common room, pushing the volatile feelings down until they simmered below the surface, waiting for the moment to explode.

When her chance came, she would be ready.

* * *

Fitful dreams danced inside Ginny's head, and she tightened her grip on the covers in response, her breathing fast and shallow.

_The surrounding colors shimmered and sharpened, as if she was emerging from deep water, and her head broke the surface in a rush that overwhelmed her senses._

Her body ached all over, the light harsh to her eyes as she squirmed in the heat that rolled off the fireplace. Below her was the snake, _her_ snake, coiled on the old carpet.

 _‘Why must I do this?’_ asked the snake, the words slithering into her mind. ‘ _Why can’t I make my own choices, live and die as I wish, like any other reptile…’_

 _‘Because I gave you a gift!’_ Ginny spat, the words slipping from her mouth. Her jaw was sore, and the joints were hard, but the pain was inconsequential compared to the disrespect. How dare this base creature speak like this? _‘You would pass by this reward? This opportunity to serve me, to rebuild the world? You’d rather be alone and forgotten?'_

_‘If it means freedom, even death, I would gladly…’_

_‘Silence!’_ snapped Ginny, leveling her wand at the snake and watching it writhe in pain. She took a deep breath, but inwardly Ginny screamed against the cruelty.

“Master, may I approach?” asked a man, hesitating by the door.

 _Good_ , she thought. _He showed proper deference._ He was someone who served well and willingly, someone who could shoulder responsibility. “Bring me word of our plans.”

Ginny gestured with her outstretched hand, and for the first time, she saw the terrible tangle of flesh that it had become. She wanted to retch, but the feeling didn’t reach her stomach, only a thought of disgust that hovered like a shadow.

“I’ve sent word to the Wizengamot and the Ministry that my father will be on extended absence at our estate, recovering from exposure to Dragon Pox. No one suspects that he’s dead or that I’ve been serving in his place, and we shouldn’t have any visitors with the threat of a contagious disease over the house. I’ve set aside enough of his remains for the potion and will remain out of sight until we’ve reported his death.”

“Good, good,” said Ginny, her words harsh and dry in her throat. “And of the prophecy?”

The young man looked less pleased, his eyes darting quickly to Nagini as she lay at Ginny’s feet. “Yes, there are some complications, but we're working through them. I’ve issued a special proclamation in my father’s name to get our man into the Department of Mysteries, but we had to add a few extra names to avoid suspicion. One is loyal to us, but the other less so. We’re working on suitable leverage to gain access, but Lucius is concerned about putting his position at risk if they discover his allegiance.”

Anger flared inside her, and Ginny watched as the man cowered before her. Good, he should know his place. Still, the plan was in motion, and soon enough the prophecy would be hers. It had taken a decade to get this far, but she knew the value of patience.

“Fine,” she spat, pointing at the young man. “But if Lucius doesn’t deliver, I will take my pleasure from his flesh. Go.”

* * *

Ginny woke with a start, her hair plastered to her forehead with sweat and her legs tangled in the sheets. She needed to breathe, to calm her hammering heart. She nearly sent the glass of water beside her bed tumbling when she snatched it, drinking greedily to erase the taste of bile in her throat.

It had been one of Voldemort's dreams again, shapes and colors and sensations swimming in her mind as she tried to nail down the memory. A man she didn't recognize involved in a plot, a snake that wished to be free, and burning, roiling anger that infused her every thought. And the prophecy, always the prophecy. Voldemort must be trying to steal it, though she couldn’t imagine what he’d want with it. Did it hold something important? Some way to defeat him?

She rolled from her bed and threw a robe around her shoulders, trudging downstairs into the common room to get some air. There was a fire crackling in the hearth below and for a moment she hesitated, remembering the room from her dream.

“Can’t sleep either?” asked a voice, and Ginny nearly jumped from her skin. Harry sat on the floor and stared into the flames, a blanket wrapped tightly about him.

“Had a nightmare, you?”

Harry nodded but didn’t look up, his fingers fidgeting as he gripped the edge of the blanket. “It was tonight, a year ago, when the first attack happened. When Tom took control.”

“Oh, Harry,” Ginny said, sitting beside him. For a moment, she hesitated, but then she reached an arm tentatively around his shoulder.

Harry flinched for a moment, but he didn't move, instead exhaling a shaky breath. "Could you… would you stay with me, for a while longer?"

"Of course," she said, her heart beating an altogether different rhythm. Tom had damaged both of them, but they had something he could never have -- each other.

"I'll stay as long as you need."

* * *

_"Occlumens_!" Ginny cast, setting her jaw and shutting her eyes. She would stop Professor Slughorn's attempt this time, she was sure of it. But then her mental barrier shifted, little pockets of her resistance faltering, and she struggled to hold on.

It felt as if she was in a boat, in the middle of the ocean, trying to plug every hole and leak that sprung from the floor. And then it rained, and the hull shattered against the waves, water drawing her into the icy depths.

“Yellow,” said Professor Slughorn, lowering his wand. “I saw what you were trying there, Ginny, and that’s a natural reaction. Pushing back with sheer willpower or force is our instinct, but any skilled legilimens knows this and can recognize it immediately. You must be silent and prepared, smooth like the surface of glass. When you struggle, you tell your opponent you know what they’re doing, and you lose an important advantage.”

Ginny swiped her sleeve across her brow and exhaled, her breath ragged in her lungs. “I tried to imagine an ocean, calm and tranquil.”

“Do you know where I saw the color?”

“The life preserver, at the last second,” Ginny sighed, remembering the flash she’d seen before Slughorn had lowered the spell. “I panicked, and I guess because it was important, I associated it with the object?”

“Perhaps,” mused Slughorn, “but if you saw the side of your boat, you’d have seen the word spelled as clear as day.”

“Really?” Ginny huffed, “I thought I’d hidden it better than that. Let’s go again, I just need a minute. I can do this.”

“It is very difficult magic, Ginny. You can’t expect to master it in a few sessions, no matter your talent for the Patronus. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't even consider teaching someone below fifth year.”

Slughorn leaned against his desk and motioned for Ginny to sit. "Have you ever played wizards' chess?"

"Some, but Ron's the real genius."

"Like wizards' chess, occlumency is about understanding your opponent's intention and subverting it. A skilled occlumens can weave elements of the truth into a lie until it becomes believable, and the legilimens would never know they've been fooled, or lead them further and further into a trap until they lay their own secrets bare," Slughorn explained.

"Traps? You didn't tell me about that part," Ginny huffed, feeling exhausted. "I have to learn all of it if Voldemort comes for me, I have to be ready."

"We each have our limits, Ginny. I understand what you're feeling, but if you push yourself too hard, you won't make any progress at all. Relaxation is the proper mindset for good occlumency, _and_ medicine for the overworked mind and body."

Ginny sighed, "Are you kicking me out?"

"For tonight, and I don't want you practicing in secret either. Magic that deals with the mind has great potential for doing permanent damage, and you won't be able to control it for a while yet."

She nodded her head, though Ginny had no intention of keeping that promise.

What other choice did she have?

* * *

Colin's head peeked out from the staircase, concern etched on his face as he scanned the room. "Is Cleo down here?"

Ginny shook her head, and Colin joined her by the fireplace, collapsing into a plump armchair. He extended his legs toward the flames, cradling Whiskers, his rat, in his lap.

"Is Ada around?"

"No, she just left for her Muggle Studies class," Ginny answered, flipping through the list of new plays that Wood had given them to study before practice that evening. It looked like he'd spent his whole holiday frantically jotting down plays on a drawing board.

"Good, I don't know if I could face her right now," Colin said, idly scratching behind Whiskers's ears. "I failed the Transfiguration test today, I'm sure of it. My kettle still had a tail and even some fur on the handle. It turned back into a mouse before McGonagall even finished grading it."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad," Ginny said, sliding her quill in between the pages to keep her place. "Maybe McGonagall will let you have another try? Lupin let me retake my boggart test after I mucked it up."

"Oh, I'd be much too afraid to ask for that, I could hardly face her after she saw my spell. Maybe Selwyn is right, I _am_ a lost cause."

"Selwyn is never right, and you're definitely not a lost cause! You just had a bad test, it happens to everyone."

Colin only shrugged. "It's not the same, though. You're _Ginny Weasley_. It's different being muggleborn. Half the purebloods already think I'm worthless, so every time I make a mistake, I'm just proving them right."

He shrugged his shoulders, staring into the fire. "Not all of us can be Hermione Granger. Sometimes I…" Colin hesitated, eyes darting around the mostly empty room, "Sometimes I wonder if I'm giving other muggleborns a bad name."

"Don't listen to that rubbish those gits go on about," Ginny said, furious.

"I'm not worried about me, not really," Colin explained in a hurry, "I've got you and Ada. I'm just worried about Dennis -- what if he can't handle it? What if I can't protect him, you know?"

Colin straddled the two worlds, struggling to live a full life in each. Ginny understood how difficult it was to come from a muggle family and having to learn everything so quickly, but now she lived with the Potters, and those everyday reminders of the other world had slowly drifted into the background. Taken for granted, an afterthought.

Without those reminders, Ginny would drift further and further from the muggle world, untethered from her past. Maybe that was why Dumbledore had insisted she be raised among muggles, to keep her grounded.

And maybe he was right -- Tom had a muggle parent, if Slytherin's portrait was to be believed. How had he become Voldemort, obsessed with the destruction and subjugation of muggles and muggleborns alike?

“You can't blame yourself for someone else being cruel, that's their own choice,” Ginny said at last. “But you're not alone, and neither is Dennis -- we're all Gryffindors and we look out for one another. And Gryffindor lucky to have the Creevey brothers.”

He blushed, letting himself sink further into the cushions and away from Ginny's scrutiny. "Thank you. You know, I _have_ felt more like a Gryffindor lately. Taking care of Whiskers made me realize that I'm actually quite good at being protective."

Colin set him on a cushion, closer to the flickering warmth of the fireplace. "He's old and a little rough around the edges, but he's been through a lot. I bet he'd been living on that train all summer before he made a run for it in my trunk."

"Whiskers sounds like a Gryffindor, too," Ginny said, though she didn't quite feel comfortable around the rat just yet. She hoped Cleo would know to stay away if Whiskers ever got out -- she wouldn't know what to say to Colin if the worst should happen. Best to avoid it altogether.

"Thanks for listening," Colin said, "you and Ada are always bailing me out."

"Hey, what are friends for? And haven't you been helping Ada with her Muggle Studies homework?"

"Only a little. It's no trouble," he said, dismissing it with a gesture.

"Ada doesn't ask me, and I grew up with muggles, too," Ginny pointed out. "You just don't give yourself enough credit. And Dennis is making friends, isn’t he?"

“Yeah,” Colin agreed, his voice hesitant, “I'm less worried about bullies, though. It's just… sometimes I have dreams about what happened last year, the moment before it petrified me… I can’t let anything like that happen to him.”

Ginny nodded, thinking of the icy passages in the Chamber below and the man whose ideals had set everything into motion.

Perhaps it wasn't so surprising that Tom Riddle had become Voldemort, his ears filled with centuries-old hate and promises of greatness. Like Salazar, Tom believed himself better than everyone around him. More deserving. He was the beneficiary of some 'sacred legacy', in the name of which any action was justified.

Beside Ginny, Colin quietly watched Whiskers as he snoozed in the warm glow, his fur patchy in places. Ginny felt lucky to have such a caring friend. There were so many examples of muggleborns in her life that were skilled and honest and hard-working, so many who had faced obstacles that she’d never imagined. If doors opened for her because of who she was, didn't she have an obligation to do the same for others, if she could?

She was a Gryffindor, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me over on [ The Tumblr Hellscape ](https://justmattycakes.tumblr.com/)


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